


Summer in Smallville

by mrsfizzle



Series: Monsters and Meteors [1]
Category: DCU, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Family, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Lex Luthor, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Young Clark Kent, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, young lex luthor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: Sam and Dean (13 and 17) are forced to leave their hideout in Smallville when John doesn't come back from a hunting trip. They take refuge on the Kent farm, where Lex (16) has been exiled for the summer to work for the Kents. When the monster John was hunting turn out to be infected with Kryptonite and captures Clark (9), the boys have to work together to save him.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Lex Luthor, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Monsters and Meteors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145399
Comments: 155
Kudos: 31





	1. Exile

**Author's Note:**

> My first multi-chapter crossover! Thanks goes to jakrar for suggesting (*cough* begging for) this story, helping with brainstorming, and letting me rant about characters, a LOT.
> 
> This takes place in the summer of 1996. I'm taking a bit of liberty with the timelines, but trying to be mostly true to canon for both worlds.

Lex knew he was in for it when that car hit Duncan.

Of course, that's not what he was thinking about at the time. In the moment, his mind was split between instant grief for his best friend, crippling guilt for what he'd done, and a bit of anger at Oliver Queen and the other bullies who had driven him to this. The guilt and anger had grown, but the grief was overshadowed, buried deep, and replaced by fear of what his father would do. Lex knew this was a big one.

Still, he hadn't really expected his father to actually send him away. He didn't exactly look forward to spending two months with his father during summer vacation, but being dumped in a cow town in the middle of nowhere—worse, the one place where he had traumatic memories, thanks to the meteor shower—was quite a bit worse.

They pulled up in front of a run-down farm house, definitely at least fifty years old, though the roof looked a little newer.

Lex shook his head. "A _farm?_ An _actual_ farm?"

"Manual labor. It'll do you good."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You brought this on yourself."

Lex didn't speak. If he spoke, his voice would crack, and his eyes would tear, and his father would probably twist his arm or something. This limo driver had been nice to Lex—Lex didn't want the driver to put himself in danger by trying to put a call in to CPS.

A man in a dusty white t-shirt and khakis worked out front of the farm house, putting up a new fence. He wiped his forehead and took a few steps toward the limo as Lex and his father stepped out of the car.

Lex's palms began to sweat, and he adjusted his baseball cap. It didn't completely cover his baldness, but it made it a lot less obvious. He felt naked without it. Thankfully, his teachers had understood. Unfortunately, so had those bullies.

"I'd like you to meet Jonathan Kent," Lex's father said to him. "The Kents are hardworking, salt-of-the-earth kind of folks. You do as they say, and I'm sure you'll get along fine."

Lex couldn't quite bring himself to greet his new guardian. He wondered if Mr. Kent would be like his father. The thickness of the man's belt and the size of his muscles made for a menacing combination, and the look he was giving Lex wasn't exactly comforting.

"Mr. Kent, you have a guest room, don't you?"

Mr. Kent's voice caught. "Wait, wait. Mr. Luthor, you said you needed to _store_ something at the farm."

"Yes. But I neglected to tell you the best part." Lex's dad grinned, showing too many teeth. "Free labor for the summer."

" _Lionel_ . . ."

Lex's father took a step closer to Mr. Kent. "As I reminded you on the phone, you owe me, Jonathan Kent. I've kept your secret all of these years. Did you really think your debt would never come due?"

Lex blinked a couple of times. _Secrets?_

"I've more than paid any debts I had to you," Mr. Kent said through his teeth.

"Unfortunately, that's not for you to decide."

There was a moment when Lex thought Mr. Kent was going to hit his father—part of him wanted to see someone stand up to him, though a bigger part of him doubted that Mr. Kent deserved to die—but the moment passed. Mr. Kent took a deep breath. "Why do you want to leave your son here?"

"Lex got himself into some trouble at boarding school. I figured some hard work would do him good. I trust you won't coddle him."

"You're leaving him here to punish him?"

"He's fairly quiet, and he's not a big eater. I can write you a check for his room and board, if it makes you feel better. But one way or another, my son is staying here until he goes back to boarding school."

Mr. Kent scoffed. "Keep your money. Get off my property."

His father nodded and stepped back into the limo. The driver set Lex's two suitcases beside Lex, gave Lex himself a sympathetic smile—more of a good-bye than Lex had even received from his father—and returned to the driver's seat.

Mr. Kent turned to Lex as the limo pulled away. He picked up a suitcase. "Let me take one of these, I'll show you to your room."

"I can get them both."

"You'll need one hand free to hang up your hat when you get into the house."

Lex's cheeks burned.

* * *

The Winchesters arrived in Smallville in the late afternoon, a few hours before sundown. Dean followed his father into the large one-room cabin, and Sam followed close behind him. Aside from the musty smell, it was one of actually one of the nicer places his dad had had them stay. There was a couch and a TV off to one side, two full-sized beds on the other, and a full kitchen in the center with a sink—that meant running water. Sure enough, a halfway-open door in the back lead to a small bathroom with a shower.

Dean didn't care about any of that. He was seventeen, far too old to be left behind from a hunt, even if he had messed up the last one. He'd been hunting for over a year now.

"Come on, Dad, I can help."

His father looked him right in the eye. "I'm meeting up with a couple of other hunters. I'll have all the help I need. My decision on this is final, Dean, I don't want to hear another word about it from you. Clear?"

"Crystal. Sir." Dean had almost left off the title. Only Sam could get away with that kind of mistake.

Dean set down his duffel bag at the foot of one bed, and Sam set his down beside the other. Sam had been quiet throughout the drive. That wasn't unusual, but Dean was pretty sure there was more to it this time. Sam was the reason Dean had messed up the last hunt, but it wasn't Sam's fault. He didn't deserve to be punished along with Dean. Then again, being left out of a hunt wasn't really a punishment for Sam.

Their dad did a visual sweep of the cabin, then he said, "I'll be back within the week."

"It'll take that long?" Dean asked.

"Probably not, but just in case, there's a week's worth of supplies in the kitchen. I expect you to ration accordingly, as well as keeping up your training every morning. Indoors, this time. This is a dangerous one."

Dean nodded. He knew the drill.

"You look after Sammy."

"Yes, sir."

His father clapped Dean on the shoulder, then walked over to where Sam was beginning to unpack into the drawers in his nightstand. Sam turned to face his father and smiled, and his father gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "You do what Dean tells you to."

"I always do."

"I know. Stay safe." He mussed Sam's hair, and Dean's chest burned with jealousy. His father caught his eye and straightened up. "Alright. I'll see you boys in less than a week."

With that, he left the cabin.

Dean kicked off his shoes and went to sit on the edge of his bed. Unlike Sam, he never felt the need to unpack anything when they arrived at a new hideout.

Sam walked over to the window and watched the Impala pull away, then turned back to Dean. "He's gone now. Want to go explore?"

"He said this was a dangerous one. We need to stay inside."

"Come _on_ , Dean, we're not gonna stay inside for a whole week."

"I'm sorry, did Dad put _you_ in charge?"

Sam huffed and crossed his arms, looking away.

Dean instantly regretted his harsh tone."Sammy . . ."

"I hate this."

Despite being sick of Sam's attitude, Dean couldn't help but feel bad for his little brother. Sam made no secret of the fact that this life wasn't for him, but he was never going to get a choice in the matter. Of course, this hunt was particularly frustrating—being stuck inside was even tougher on Sam than it was on Dean, especially during the summertime. Dean made up his mind that he was going to find a way to make it up to Sam, to make things more tolerable for him.

His dad hadn't told him much about what he was hunting, but there were books in the cabin; Dean might be able to do some research, pick up some clues, figure out how to protect themselves enough that it might be safe to go outside. He might even be able to assist in the hunt from a distance, so things would go quicker.

Dean hated research, but if there was a chance he might be able to make things a little better for Sammy, he'd do as much research as it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very new kind of sandbox for me. Please do let me know what you liked and didn't, and whether you think this should continue. I'm also open to considering suggestions for future chapters, though I'm afraid I'm not much of a romance writer.


	2. Settling In

Mr. Kent gave Lex a little time to settle in to his new room. He said Mrs. Kent would call him down for dinner in a few minutes.

It was the smallest bedroom Lex had ever stayed in, but that wasn't unexpected—by the looks of it, the Kents didn't really have money. Duncan hadn't had money, either. He'd said he was happy enough without, but that didn't mean Lex had any idea how to deal with poverty. He figured that was part of the punishment.

Lex had to decide how he was going to play this. He could keep his head down, do as he was told, and get through the summer. Or he could rebel and fight, forcing the Kents to kick him out. Lex figured the punishment for getting kicked out would be worse, but he also wasn't really the type to take his father's abuse lying down. Running away would probably be the quickest way to convince the Kents he wasn't worth the trouble.

No point in unpacking, then. Lex kicked off his shoes, laid back on the bed over the covers, and tried not to think about Duncan.

The door to the guest room swung open a moment later. Lex sat up, expecting Mrs. Kent, but instead, a kid—maybe ten or eleven years old—with dark brown hair and wide green eyes stood in the doorway. "Are you Lex?" the kid asked.

"Uh, yeah." Lex hadn't realized the Kents already had a kid. "Who are you?"

"I'm Clark. My mom says to tell you there are extra blankets and pillows in the closet, and that you can put your clothes in the dresser." The boy's eyes wandered up above Lex's eyes, to his head.

Lex felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him as he remembered that Mr. Kent had made him leave his baseball cap downstairs.

"Your mom lets you shave your head?"

Lex didn't address the _mom_ issue. "No. It's . . . natural."

"Awesome!"

Whatever Lex was expecting the boy's reaction to be, it wasn't that. Lex's throat tightened, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"My parents said you're staying here this summer."

"Uh, I guess." No point in letting on his plans to run away.

"Cool! I've always wanted a brother."

Lex's heart dropped. It had been four years, and yet somehow, Julian's death was still fresh. "I'm _not_ your brother."

"Well, a friend who lives here. That's kind of like a brother. We can make s'mores and ride horses and play checkers and . . . do you know how to play basketball?" Clark bounced a little on his toes.

"Um . . . kind of?" Lex shifted uncomfortably—the poor kid was really looking forward to a lot of things that were never going to happen.

"I can teach you! This is gonna be _fun!_ "

Lex winced. On the one hand, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had been so excited at the thought of spending time with him. On the other hand, Clark had the _wrong_ idea about this whole thing. "Hey, listen, Clark—"

"Oh, do you not want to play basketball? It's okay, my friend Chloe doesn't like it either. What do you like to play?"

"No, it's . . ." Lex shook his head. He was gonna disappoint the kid one way or another. "Basketball is fine."

"Okay! Let's play after dinner."

"Sure." There was no point in arguing, and a game or two couldn't hurt. Lex wasn't planning to run away tonight. He had to make a plan first.

Just then, Mrs. Kent stepped into the doorway, hands on her hips. "Clark, what did I say about bothering Lex?"

"You said to just tell him about the pillows and blankets and dresser then let him unpack. But _Mo-om,_ he wasn't even busy. And we're gonna play basketball after dinner!"

She glanced over at Lex, then back to Clark. "Okay. Go set the table."

Clark nodded and raced out of the room.

" _Walk!_ " she called after him, then sighed and rolled her eyes. She smiled at Lex.

Lex half-smiled back, but didn't hold eye contact. His eyes dropped, and he noticed she was carrying his cap.

"You're welcome to play with him if you want, Lex, but don't feel like you have to entertain him. I know you had a long drive from Metropolis today."

He shrugged. "It's okay." He kept his eyes on his cap.

Mrs. Kent held it out to him. "I talked to Jonathan. We agreed it's okay for you to wear it inside, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

His face felt warm again, but he placed the cap over his head with gratitude.

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Dinner is just about ready. Why don't you come get washed up?"

He nodded, and she left his room. He followed a moment after.

As soon as he was out in the hallway, the smells of dinner began to drift up to him. It was like nothing Lex had ever smelled, or at least, nothing he'd ever smelled and then been allowed to eat. It was savory and homey and slightly sweet and a little peppery. Fried food, probably. His mouth was literally watering.

He had to admit, he was tempted to stick around, if only for a week or two. But it wouldn't take them too long to figure out what type of person Lex really was, and then they'd kick him out anyway. Better to leave while the control was still in his hands.

* * *

As much as Dean was hoping he'd be able to find something in his research to help make the hunt go quicker for his dad, or at least give them a hint about how they might be able to protect themselves enough to leave the cabin, he didn't want to get Sam's hopes up. So he decided to save the research for after Sam went to bed.

They passed a quiet day. Sam unpacked his suitcase while Dean cleaned the few weapons their dad had left with them—a silver knife, a rifle, and a shotgun. Sam read a book in bed while Dean channel surfed, until Sam got annoyed enough with the noise to come over and plop down on the couch as well. Of course, there was nothing good on, so Dean eventually got up to start on dinner—boxed macaroni and cheese.

They didn't bother with the dishes. There was no way Dad would be back this soon, and he was the only one that would complain about the kitchen being messy. Instead, Sam rummaged through a closet to find some board games. Dean didn't really like playing games with Sam—it was aggravating to repeatedly lose to his little brother, which was what usually happened—but he agreed to play because he really was that bored. Also, he knew it would make Sam happy.

Sam put himself to bed at nine—he'd always been pretty good about keeping to routines—and Dean said he'd be going to sleep soon. They turned out the lights in the cabin, but as soon as he was sure Sam was asleep, Dean flicked on a flashlight and searched the bookshelf beside the couch.

He was really hoping for newspapers, but no luck—apparently, it had been awhile since anyone had been in the cabin. There were a few novels, a dictionary, a Bible, and a couple of reference books. One was called _Smallville, Meteor Capital of the World,_ and appeared to be local history, though it didn't look much like a textbook.

Dean kept turning through the pages, though, because he didn't have much else to work with. Apparently there had been a huge meteor shower seven years ago, causing quite a few deaths and injuries. Most of the rocks left behind were a bright green, and sometimes they glowed.

Some people believed the rocks had some kind of radioactive properties and could mutate people. Others were convinced a spaceship had crash landed among all of the meteors, though it didn't seem to be connected to the other theories.

The more Dean flipped through the pages, the more he realized it looked more like a bunch of conspiracy theories than like the history and lore books he usually read through. Dean rolled his eyes and put the book back. The weirdness of the truth had a certain flavor; this wasn't it.

He looked through the supplies in the cabin, as well as the items his dad had left behind, to try to gather more clues. Their dad hadn't reminded them to put a salt line by the doors and windows, so it probably wasn't a ghost. Could be werewolves. Probably not vampires, given the stops they'd made—or rather, hadn't made—along the way. Possibly a demon, but Dean doubted his dad would have guaranteed he'd be home in less than a week if it was.

Dean wished he had the hunting journal, but his dad had taken it with him, which probably meant he needed the notes. So either it was a creature he didn't deal with much, or he didn't know exactly what it was. That didn't help Dean at all.

He sighed and put away the books. Looked like he and Sam were in for the long haul.

Maybe Dean could risk a short venture outside in the morning, see if he could see any evidence left behind. If nothing else, maybe he'd find some of those meteor rocks. While the theories about spaceships and aliens were obviously whack, Dean had to admit that meteor shower had piqued his interest. And Sam was kind of a nerd when it came to science. He'd probably love something that came from space.


	3. First Week

The Kents weren't all bad.

Working on the farm was tiring and difficult, that was for sure, but not in the way Lex expected. Lex absolutely exhausted himself on the first day, thinking he'd be punished physically if he didn't work hard enough, but Mr. Kent never, ever touched him, except once as part of showing him how to use a tool properly. On that occasion, when Mr. Kent reached toward him, Lex accidentally flinched, and Mr. Kent looked genuinely confused as to why.

Mr. Kent was a lot like Lex's dad in the sense that he gave orders in a voice that clearly expected to be obeyed without question. But he was _nothing_ like Lex's dad in that when Clark complained he was tired, they finished the task they were on, then they all took a long break and had fresh baked cookies and milk. And when Lex woke up stiff and sore on the second day and struggled to get started in the morning, Mr. Kent gave him easier chores until his muscles had loosened. Lex was mortified that he'd let his weakness show, but he was thankful for the mercy. His own dad would have worked him even harder if he'd let on that he was in pain.

While Mr. Kent remained fairly distant, focusing most of his attention on Clark refraining from making much conversation with Lex, Mrs. Kent couldn't seem to stop asking Lex questions. She asked him about what kinds of foods he liked to eat and if he was getting enough, about whether he was sure his room was warm enough at night and if he was sleeping well, about how Mr. Kent was treating him and whether he missed his dad.

Lex found it difficult to keep himself distant from her, but it was absolutely necessary. People like Lex didn't get to have people like Mrs. Kent in their lives. As unfair as his own mom's death had been, it had been some sort of cosmic justice to Lex that he had lost her. The one time Mrs. Kent actually tried to hug him, he let himself melt into the impossible warmth and softness that was her embrace for all of one second before his very soul felt like it was burning within him, and he couldn't pull away fast enough. Whenever Mrs. Kent asked questions about his wellbeing and preferences, Lex gave her more or less non-committal answers, not wanting to worry her—until the time she asked if he wanted a second helping of her homemade pie. That was emphatic yes.

But the best, and thus most complicated, part of summer with the Kents was Clark. Clark followed along with everything Lex did around the farm, even when Lex really had no idea what he was doing, and he invited Lex to play with him in most of their free time. He chattered constantly about things he wanted to do with Lex, about his friends and his school, and about the farm. The few times Lex responded with any information about himself, Clark reacted with amazement and wonder, like Lex was the coolest person he'd ever met.

Lex tried to convince himself to be irritated about having an annoying nine-year-old following him around all the time, but it was really difficult to be upset with Clark. True, Clark was enough of a distraction that Lex had little time to think about running away, but he also didn't have much time to think about Duncan. Lex did, however, spend a lot of time thinking about his twelfth birthday party that no one had attended, and how much different it might have felt if Clark had been there on that day. He was sure nothing would have stopped Clark from attending.

Except maybe Lex's father.

Lex couldn't be getting used to this world. It wasn't his reality. And yet, he found himself putting off his departure.

It had been a little over a week when Clark finally asked, "Why _are_ you staying here this summer?"

Lex was washing his hands at the kitchen sink when Clark asked; Clark was waiting for the sink. Lex decided there wasn't really any point in lying. "My dad sent me here to teach me a lesson."

"What lesson?"

Lex breathed in to answer, but he shook his head. He didn't know exactly what the lesson was. He never knew. The beating after Julian's death had at least been a clear punishment for a crime, but the death had also been an accident. There was nothing he could learn from that, except maybe to be more careful. And sending him away to boarding school was more an act of control than anything. If anything, the lesson there was just that Lex couldn't do anything to earn his father's love.

Then again, maybe the lesson was a little clearer this time. Lex couldn't get it out of his head that his father had been more upset by his friendship with Duncan in the first place, than by Duncan's death or Lex's role in it. Like sending Lex to the farm was his way of saying, _You like poor people so much? Try being one of them._

"Lex?" Clark asked. "What's your dad trying to teach you?"

"That I'm his son, and I'd better not forget it."

With that, Lex walked away from the sink. He didn't even bother to dry his hands on the towel.

He would leave tonight, after Clark had gone to bed.

He didn't belong here. He never would.

* * *

Despite his best efforts, Dean couldn't figure out what his dad was hunting. Under the circumstances, he didn't let Sam leave the house, despite his complaints, but he himself left a couple of times for less than five minutes at a stretch. He told Sam he was doing recon, but the fact was, he was looking for meteor rocks. He didn't find any, though. He supposed if there were any near enough to the cabin to be reached within a few minutes, they were probably buried and difficult enough to find that he wouldn't have spotted any within five minutes.

The supplies were supposed to last a week. They probably should have been enough for two weeks, but Sam and Dean had never been very good at rationing, and Sam was still growing. After six days, they were down to the cereal they didn't really like, some raw fruits and vegetables they'd been avoiding, and one box of macaroni and cheese.

"What are we gonna do if he doesn't come back?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't look up from the TV. "He'll come back."

"But—"

Dean elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't talk like that."

After seven days, they were down to the disgusting emergency protein bars Dad had dumped in the bottom of their suitcases. At that point, Dean stopped eating. He let Sam think he was, but it was more important that Sam got enough.

But Sam was growing antsier by the hour. "Dean, we really need to talk about—"

Without food, Dean had zero patience. "You want me to double your training for the day?"

"You think it's a good idea to be burning calories we don't have?"

"You think it's a good idea to argue with me?"

"You're not gonna make me double my training when you know we don't have food."

"Try me."

Sam rolled his eyes.

After eight days, they were down to condiments and a little milk.

Sam refused to get out of bed on the ninth day. Dean shouted at him, shook him, and finally took the blankets away, but Sam wouldn't budge.

"Training starts at seven. You know the drill, Sammy."

Sam laid on his stomach, clutching his pillow, his head turned to one side. "I'm hungry."

Dean swallowed hard. It was his job to take care of Sam and look after him.

"Can we go outside?"

"Dad said—"

Sam turned around and sat up straight on the bed. "He _said_ he'd be back in less than a week."

"Sammy . . ." Dean shook his head. "He'll come back today. You'll see."

"Can't we wander around and see if we can find another abandoned cabin to steal food from?"

Dean glanced toward the window. He'd done that before, but he never liked taking his chances like that, especially on hunts where Dad said it wasn't even safe to leave the hideout. "He'll come back today. Drink some extra water and hang in there."

Sam turned back around and flopped down onto his pillow again. Dean sighed and tossed the blankets back onto the bed. He didn't make Sam get up or train. He'd been right about burning calories. Once Sam did get up, they spent the whole day in front of the TV. Dean had felt worse hunger pains in his life, but these ones were quickly passing the point of being bearable.

It was starting to get dark when Sam spoke for the first time since that morning: "Dean, it hurts."

That was all it took. Dean switched off the TV and jumped up out of his seat. "Come on, Sammy."

Sam scrambled to follow. "Wait, what?"

"We're going to find something to eat." Dean grabbed a flashlight, shoved a gun in his pocket, and handed a knife to Sam. Then he trudged straight out of the front door of the cabin. Sam followed close on his heels

They walked for about ten minutes before Dean started to realize exactly how abandoned their cabin was. They hadn't run into anything. Sam's brow was furrowed, but he didn't say anything.

Another ten minutes, and Dean was able to make out a farm house in the distance. The only problem was, the lights were on. That meant the owners were home.

"Maybe they can help us," Sam whispered.

Dean didn't even dignify that with his consideration. "We keep walking."

"Dean, we're not going to find anything."

"We can't just waltz in there and ask for help."

Sam threw up his hands. "Why not? We're already breaking rules."

Dean clenched his teeth. Their dad should have come back. If he didn't come back, something had gone wrong. If something had gone wrong, this hunt was even more dangerous than usual. That meant it was more dangerous than usual to ask for help.

Sam's voice became very small. "Dean, what if Dad is—"

" _Don't_ say it."

Sam sighed. "I'm _really_ hungry. And it's cold out here."

"Quick complaining. Whiner, is that all you do?"

Sam winced, and Dean let his breath out, pacing a little. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that Sam had a point, but he'd gone a day longer than Sam without food. This was going to get bad if they waited much longer.

"Okay," Dean said. "We'll go in through the side, find the kitchen, grab a few things, and run. Got it?"

"But if Dad doesn't come back, that won't—"

" _Got it?_ "

Sam sighed.

They crept over to the side door. Dean was ready to pick the lock if he had to, but the door was unlocked.

They might have been alright, if it weren't for the fact that the door creaked.


	4. Change of Plans

Dean snapped into action. He grabbed Sam and pulled him back—but he was too late.

A red-haired woman, probably in her mid-thirties, stepped into the kitchen and froze, jaw hanging open. "Ah . . . I . . ."

Dean swallowed hard, keeping a firm grip on Sam's arm. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, we must have walked into the wrong house—"

"Who are you?"

"No one, we're just leaving, so sorry to disturb you—"

"A-are you in new in town?"

"Yes. Yes, we are. I'm so sorry, we just—"

"Dean, stop." Sam wrenched his arm away. "Ma'am, we need help."

" _Sam_ ," Dean warned.

"Our dad left us at a cabin in the woods. He was supposed to come back for us a couple of days ago. We're out of food, and we're hungry." Sam put on the look he gave Dean and their dad when he wanted something—big, wide, watery eyes. "Please help us."

The puppy eyes worked much better on the stranger than they ever did on Dad. "Oh, you poor things! Your dad left you alone?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no, it's not like that, ma'am. I'm almost eighteen." _Almost_ was a strong word—he had more than six months to go—but he couldn't have this clueless woman calling CPS. "We were just looking for . . . a second stash of food he'd left for us, but, uh, clearly our directions were a little off."

"Well, come sit at the table. I'll heat up some leftovers from dinner." She reached out and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Sweetie, can I get you a blanket? You boys must be freezing."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. . . ."

"Kent."

"Mrs. Kent. Thank you." Sam smiled. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean."

"Nice to meet you." She looked over at Dean. "Is there a phone number we can call? Some way we might be able to reach your dad?"

"Uh, no. No phone number. But our dad will expect us back at the cabin . . ." Dean was growing more uneasy by the second.

Mrs. Kent frowned. "Well, I don't want you walking through the back woods alone again. It can be dangerous out there, especially after dark. How about you two stay here for the night? In the morning, my husband will give you a ride to wherever you need to go."

Dean swallowed hard. They really should have planned a cover story for if they were caught, one that would have let them grab a few supplies and leave. But it was too late for that, and Sam was hungry. The house was warm, and he could smell meat and onions and garlic—sure enough, Mrs. Kent took a half a meatloaf, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a container of steamed vegetables out of the fridge and started dishing up plates for the microwave. Before she closed the fridge, Dean caught a glimpse of a third of a berry pie.

One night couldn't hurt.

* * *

Martha went out to the barn to find Jonathan and explain what had happened with Sam and Dean. The surprise was clear from his facial expression, but he showed no signs of disagreement about housing a couple of extra boys for a night.

Martha found there was a spring in her step as she stepped back into the warm kitchen and saw the two newcomers clearing their plates. She smiled as she took the last of the pie out of the fridge and began heating it up for them. She liked having a full house—she'd always imagined having a big family, but Clark's secret had made that complicated.

Finding a place for Sam and Dean to sleep would be a bit more challenging, since Lex was already in the guest room. They actually had another extra bedroom, but it was being used for storage, and it would have taken days to clear everything out. The loft where Clark liked to play might have been appropriate for a warmer night, but that wasn't tonight. That left the living room. The couch wasn't big enough for two, and the armchair didn't recline, so one of them would have to sleep on the floor. That would be okay, just for one night.

Most of the extra pillows and blankets were in the room where Lex was staying. Martha went upstairs and knocked on the door. No response—he was probably already asleep. She let herself in.

Lex was packing. He froze when she entered the room.

Her first instinct was to shout demands at him, asking what he thought he was doing. But that wouldn't make him want to stay. Part of her understood exactly why he wanted to leave—as compared to what he'd had with his father, this world was unfamiliar to him, and that must have scared him. But she also had no idea what he thought he would accomplish by running.

Meanwhile, _she_ wouldn't accomplish anything by yelling at him. She decided to play this a different way.

"Oh, you must have overheard. That's sweet of you, Lex."

He blinked a few times. "Ah . . . overheard . . ."

"A couple of boys were abandoned by their father and left to starve in a cabin in the woods. They're going to be staying with us for the night. I was going to have them sleep in the living room, but I guess you heard me and decided to give them the guest room." She nodded to the suitcase. "But I won't put you in the living room. Why don't you go sleep in Clark's room? I'll let him know."

Lex's jaw pulsed, but he nodded. She slipped over into Clark's room—Clark sat up when she entered. She told him what was happening—he was more than thrilled to have Lex stay with him, saying, "It's like a sleepover!"

Martha went back into Lex's room to find him closing up the suitcase, his cheeks bright red.

"It's settled. Clark's happy to have you. I'll get you some blankets and pillows, okay?"

"Okay," Lex grumbled under his breath.

She turned to go, but then she faced him once more. "Oh, and Lex?"

"Yeah?"

Martha gave him a pointed look. "Clark's a light sleeper, and he's not very good at minding his own business. If you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he'll probably lay awake until you come back. And if you don't, he'll probably come wake me up."

Lex looked away. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered.

* * *

Lex had been _so close_.

Mrs. Kent obviously knew what his plans had been. It was written all over her face. Now that he was supposed to sleep in Clark's room, he'd never be able to slip away.

He took a deep breath. Those guys were only supposed to be staying for one night. Lex could make a run for it tomorrow—or at least, he could try. Now that Mrs. Kent knew he'd been trying to run, she would probably go out of her way to make it more complicated for him.

He wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd been trying to run so that the Kents would decide he was too much trouble and send him back home, but Mrs. Kent's reaction when she caught him hadn't been anything like he was expecting. For one thing, she was a lot smarter than he thought she was—she caught onto his plans in an instant and backed him into a corner. For another, she seemed to be trying to get him to stay. Like she _wanted_ him there. But that wasn't possible—even his own dad didn't want him.

Lex adjusted his cap on his head and dragged his suitcase out of the guest room. A boy was just reaching the top of the stairs—he looked maybe twelve years old, with brown hair and a round face.

He almost ran headlong into Lex. "Oh. Hi. Are you Clark or Lex?"

A wave of annoyance washed over him—not for the question, not even for the kid almost running into him, but for the whole situation he was in. "Lex."

"I'm Sam. Thanks for giving us your room."

"Wasn't my choice." Lex realized too late how rude that sounded, but he was too tired to care. He turned again toward Clark's room.

Sam followed awkwardly behind. "Well, Dean and I really appreciate it. Especially with, um, your condition."

Lex whirled to face him. " _Condition?_ "

Sam's cheeks turned a bit pink. "Well, uh . . . don't you have cancer?"

In the wake of such recent humiliation, the assumption grated more than usual. "Who told you that?"

"No one, just, um—"

"Then why don't you mind your own damn business?"

Sam flinched, and Lex breathed in to apologize and explain that he was having a rough night, but another boy reached the top of the stairs just then. That must be Dean. He was probably around Lex's age, maybe a little older, a few inches taller and much more muscular.

"Hey, what's the problem up here?" Dean said.

Lex winced. "Ah, no problem, I—"

Dean lunged forward and grabbed the front of Lex's shirt. "I heard what you said. No one talks to my brother that way, you hear me?"

Lex clenched his teeth, but he didn't cower; he glared. "Loud and clear."

A voice from downstairs: "Boys, is everything alright up there?"

Lex cleared his throat. "We're fine, Mrs. Kent." He never took his eyes off Dean.

"Alright. I'll be up in just a minute."

Dean tightened his grip for a moment before he let him go and stalked into the room Lex had just vacated.

Sam grimaced and said, "He can be kind of protective. Sorry for prying. Thanks for the room."

Lex swallowed hard, but he couldn't think of a response before Sam disappeared into the guest room as well.


	5. Feud

Jonathan barely slept that night. He wasn't used to having so many people in the house—thanks to the need to keep Clark's secret, they didn't have a lot of visitors, and they almost never let anyone use the guest bedroom.

Having Lex hadn't been as bad as he might have expected. What the kid lacked in muscle, he made up for in determination to prove himself. He also put up with Clark, though that wasn't particularly impressive, considering Clark worshipped him.

Going from one kid, to two, to four, was more than a bit of a shock. Having more people in the house meant more work, but it also meant more hands to help with that work. And according to Martha, Sam and Dean were very well-mannered boys—they'd probably be willing to do their part, once he'd convinced them that they needed to stick around.

On some level, Jonathan's greatest objection to having them all on the farm was less about the extra work or even the risk to Clark's secrecy, and more about the fact that he was being coerced into cleaning up the messes of fathers who neglected their children. Lionel was bad enough, but he couldn't imagine leaving his kid alone in the woods. Just in the past couple of days, there had been three separate missing persons cases in Smallville. He wasn't sending those boys back to an abandoned cabin to wait alone.

Jonathan pulled himself out of bed even earlier than he usually did and walked down to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

Sam and Dean were already up. Sam held a pillowcase open, and Dean was busy loading it up with items from the pantry.

Jonathan drew himself up to his full height, cleared his throat, and gave them the sternest look he could muster.

Sam was the first to glance up. He gasped and dropped the pillowcase, but didn't say anything. Dean only noticed when he looked over and saw the pillowcase on the floor—his eyes shot up to meet Jonathan's.

"Mr. Kent," Dean said. "This isn't what it looks like."

"So, you're _not_ trying to make a run for it before the rest of us wake up."

Sam hung his head. "Sorry, Mr. Kent."

"You should be." Jonathan crossed his arms. "My wife was very kind to you last night. You should have known we would have given you anything you need."

Sam blinked a couple of times, and Dean's brow furrowed.

"That's right. You didn't have to steal." He stepped over into the kitchen and held out a hand—Sam gave him the pillowcase. "But you've got to understand, I can't let you go back to that cabin to wait all by yourselves."

Dean shook his head. "I'm almost—"

"Eighteen, I know. But you're not eighteen. And seeing as you've been left alone with no food, I see that we have two options here."

Dean swallowed. "Uh, what options?"

"If you think your dad might be in trouble, we can call the police. The sheriff is an old friend of mine, I'm sure—"

"That won't be necessary," Dean said quickly. "I'm sure our dad is fine."

" _Dean_ ," Sam whined softly. "You don't know . . ."

Jonathan frowned. "Okay. Well, the other option is for you to stay here on the farm until your dad gets back."

"No, no," Dean said. "Look, we really appreciate everything, but our dad will be expecting to find us back at the cabin—"

"You can leave him a note so he knows where to go," Jonathan said.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Mr. Kent."

"Well, I don't think it was a good idea for him to leave you alone without enough food."

Dean looked away. Sam's eyes darted back and forth between Dean and Jonathan.

"So what's it gonna be? Am I calling the police or leaving a note?"

Dean still didn't meet his eyes. Sam took a deep breath and looked right at Jonathan. "We'll stay, Mr. Kent. Sorry we tried to steal from you. Uh . . . can we help you with chores or something?"

Jonathan smiled. "Well, since you're already up."

* * *

Dean's threats were still running through Lex's mind when he woke up. It was frustrating—the nicest thing about being away from boarding school for the summer was that he didn't have to spend any time around bullies like Oliver Queen. But now, apparently, he had another bully to contend with.

He rolled over onto his right side, wincing slightly—sleeping on the floor after a hard day of chores hadn't done him any favors—and glanced up.

Clark's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. "Hi Lex!" he whispered.

Something about the kid's kindness and innocence hit Lex especially hard this morning. It reminded him of Duncan and made him think of what he'd hoped Julian would be like, all at once. His voice was choked up when he replied, "Hi Clark."

"That was fun!" Clark pushed his covers aside and sat up. "I like sleepovers. But if those other boys stay for another day, I'll let you have a turn with the bed tomorrow."

Lex got to his feet and began stretching out his sore muscles. "I don't think they're staying, Clark."

"But it could be so much _fun_. Like a party! We can all be friends and play together."

"Don't get your hopes up. The older one doesn't like me."

Clark's jaw dropped. "But you're the _coolest_."

Lex chuckled. "Thanks, Clark."

"Maybe you can try to be nice to him?"

"I'll try." Lex was willing to put on a good face for Clark's sake, especially since Sam and Dean were leaving today.

But when they arrived down in the kitchen, they found the table set with mountains of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. A carton of milk sat next to a full jug of orange juice, and Mrs. Kent was putting the butter and syrup out with a big smile on her face. Sam, Dean, and Mr. Kent were already seated.

"Come on in, I was just coming to get you!" Mrs. Kent beckoned them over, and Lex took a seat next to Clark. "This morning, I had to get out the leaf for the table. I've never used it before. But it looks like we'll be using it a bit more this summer."

Lex's heart sank. That meant Dean wasn't leaving.

They all started dishing up in silence until Clark piped up, "So, did you guys get sent here by your dad, too?"

"What?" Dean said.

Lex's cheeks felt warm—he did _not_ want to explain what Clark was talking about. Thankfully, the Kents didn't offer anything.

"Our dad left us in a cabin in the woods," Sam said. "He was supposed to be home a few days ago, but he hasn't come back yet."

"Sorry to hear that," Lex said. "He sounds like a real bastard."

" _Hey!_ " Dean's fist pounded the table.

" _Boys._ " Mr. Kent glared at Dean and Lex in turn.

"Oh, it's okay, Jonathan," Mrs. Kent said. "Dean, Lex was just trying to sympathize, and we don't yell or hit the table at breakfast. Lex, we don't insult other people's family members, and we don't use that kind of language."

Lex decided against pointing out the thing he'd overheard Mr. Kent saying about Lex's dad. "Sorry, Mrs. Kent." He kept his eyes on Dean.

"Yeah. Sorry." Dean didn't break eye contact, either.

"Eat," Mr. Kent said. "We've got a lot of chores to do today, you'll all need your strength."

Lex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Mr. Kent was right about not working on an empty stomach, but he didn't know if he could eat. He reached for the orange juice and poured himself a full glass. It was the best orange juice he'd ever had—it tasted fresh squeezed, like Mrs. Kent had made it that morning. She probably had.

Lex had almost been having a good summer, until Dean had showed up.

* * *

Dean hated everything about this situation. He hated that he and Sam had been caught breaking in, and that they'd been caught sneaking out. He hated that Mr. Kent had manipulated them into staying. He hated that Luthor kid who had insulted both Sam _and_ his dad. He hated that his dad hadn't come back, and he hated that this house felt warmer and safer than anywhere he could remember staying since he was four years old.

The food, though. He didn't hate the food. The bacon was thick and the eggs were fluffy enough, and the pancakes smelled like apple and cinnamon. Mrs. Kent didn't mess around.

Neither did Mr. Kent, for that matter. The chores were even more exhausting than their usual morning training. Mr. Kent sent Sam off with Clark to tend to the horses, and he left Lex and Dean to load in hay onto the tractor.

Dean was stronger than Lex, but the hay bales were awkward, and Lex had clearly had a bit of practice handling them, so they worked about the same speed, despite Dean's attempts to be faster. He didn't even realize Lex was competing with him as well until he accidentally bumped into Lex, almost knocking his cap off.

Dean hadn't decided whether to apologize or tell Lex to watch where he was going, but then Lex shoved Dean right back before straightening his hat, blushing furiously. Dean couldn't let that go; he jumped up into the truck bed and pushed one of the hay bales on Lex's side off of the truck, then Lex jumped up and pushed off one of his, and before long, they were shoving hay bales at each other and tearing through the hay itself.

" _Lex Luthor and Dean Winchester_."

Dean straightened right up—Mr. Kent had returned. His face was bright red, and a vein stood out in his neck—he looked a lot angrier than he had that morning when he'd caught Sam and Dean stealing the food. Dean's heart jumped.

"Get down here. _Now._ "

Dean leapt down from the truck bed, and stood at attention; Lex climbed out and stood beside him, but he kept his head down, glaring. Dean responded to every barked order and question with, "Yes, sir" and "No, sir," while Lex remained silent. It figured—Lex didn't even know how to take a lecture with dignity.

"Now _clean it up_ and _start over_ ," Mr. Kent shouted, finishing the scolding, and he stalked away.

That was it. No hitting, no creative punishments, no threats. Just a scolding and an order to redo the work. Dean took a deep breath and forced his muscles to unclench, the way he always had to on the rare occasions when he was expecting to be punished more severely than he actually was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lex forcing himself to relax in the same way.


	6. Little Brothers

Clark was _so_ lucky—instead of just one older brother, he had three now, just like Pete! His parents said it was only for a little while, but it was still fun.

Lex had said that he and Dean weren't really getting along, and they'd been arguing a little at the breakfast table—Lex had even said a bad word. But they seemed to be doing better now. Clark snuck out of the barn for a minute to check on them. They were kind of far away, but he could see them throwing around hay. It looked like lots of fun. Clark had wanted to help with moving the hay bales, but Clark's dad was worried he might show off too much of his strength, and the other boys might find out about his secrets. His parents always worried about that.

Sam really seemed to like the animals, though. "What's his name?" Sam asked while petting one of the horses.

"It's a girl. Her name is Cinnamon."

"Cinnamon." Sam smiled.

"Here, give this to her." Clark handed him an apple. "Hold your hand flat."

"I know." Sam held out the apple, and he laughed when Cinnamon picked it up. "This is really cool. I've never stayed anywhere like this before."

"Where do you live?"

Sam shrugged. "Nowhere. We're on the road a lot because of my dad's work."

"What's your dad's job?"

"He's . . . a hunter."

Clark knew a few people who went hunting for fun. Most of them had other jobs, and they didn't move around much. "But why does he have to move around?"

"It's kind of complicated." Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down.

"But—"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh." Clark traced a line in the dirt with his foot. "Well, my mom really likes having you here. Maybe if your dad brings you back to Kansas someday, you can come visit us again."

Sam smiled. "I'd like that, Clark. But I don't think he'll let us."

Clark sighed. He'd just have to enjoy the time with his new friends while they were around. "So, what do you want to do after we finish chores?"

"I dunno. Dean might make me do some training, since we didn't get to it this morning."

"Training?"

"Yeah. It's like exercise."

That didn't sound very fun. "My dad says farm chores are great exercise."

"Yeah, I know." Sam's hand moved back up to pet Cinnamon.

"So . . . maybe after your training, if you're not too tired, we could play basketball? Lex and I could play against you and Dean." That seemed fair—Dean was bigger than Lex and Sam was bigger than Clark, but Clark could use just a tiny bit of his strength and speed to make up for it.

"Maybe just you and me. Your brother and my brother, they don't really get along."

Clark breathed in to say that Lex wasn't actually his brother, but something stopped him. He really _liked_ thinking of Lex as his brother. Lex was super smart and knew lots of things about books and science and space that Clark didn't know, because he went to a fancy school for really smart people. He had visited lots of cool places, and he had played video games Clark had never even heard of. Clark hadn't worked up the courage to ask his mom if he could shave his head, though. He was pretty sure she wouldn't like that.

Sam gave Cinnamon's neck one last pat and turned toward Clark. "Are we done feeding all the animals?"

"Yeah. Do you want a snack? My mom made some cookies the other day, I think she still has some left." They'd had a big breakfast, but that had been at six in the morning, and lunch wasn't for a couple more hours.

"Okay. Race you to the house?"

Clark nodded. He'd have to let Sam win, of course—he always had to let other kids win at competitions. "One, two, three, go!"

Clark hung a bit behind Sam, but Sam kept slowing down. He was _really_ slow—was he that tired? Or . . . Clark smiled. Sam was letting him win, since Clark was younger. Clark picked up just a bit of speed and touched the front door of the house a full second before Sam did.

"You win!" Sam held up a hand for a high five, and Clark tapped it very lightly, the way his dad had taught him.

* * *

Dean was absolutely getting on Lex's last nerve.

They cleaned up from their fight with the hay in silence, and they finished loading up the bales, but Mr. Kent didn't let them stop there. As punishment for making a mess and leaving scuff marks in the truck bed, he made them continue loading hay bales for the next two hours. Lex's arms felt like they were going to fall off; he didn't have the energy to put up a real fight, so he restrained himself to occasional glares, which Dean returned.

Clark ran up to them just as they were finishing with the last load of hay. "My mom says to clean up for lunch."

Lex wiped the sweat away from his forehead. "Thanks, Clark."

Clark grinned. "I saw you guys playing with the hay, I'm so glad you're friends now!"

Lex and Dean both tripped over their words: "Uhh, well . . ."

"I told my mom you guys were getting along now, and she was _so_ happy, she said she would make another pie for tonight!"

Both of them were the image of politeness and civility at lunchtime.

After lunch, though, they were back at it. "So, Lex, how did you end up here?" Dean asked with a slight sneer.

"Same way as you, I guess." Lex put down the pitchfork for a moment and sipped at the bottle of water Mrs. Kent had given him. "Abandoned by my deadbeat father."

The redness in Dean's face was worth the risk of getting hit. "You don't know anything about my father."

Lex continued to take a chance. "I only know about mine. He expects me to go into his line of work, but his idea of training is to throw me into things headfirst and hope I live to tell about it. It's all in the name of making me stronger, but I know the truth—it's 'cause he's too ashamed of me as I am. Sound familiar?"

"You shut your mouth."

"Our dads are a lot alike. When it's convenient for them, they leave us alone or dump us on someone else." Lex smirked. "Bastards."

"You've got no family loyalty."

"Loyalty? That thing you do to try to earn your father's love? Let me save you some time, Dean. You can't earn love. It's not worth trying."

"My dad is a hero."

"Oh, it sure sounds like it." Lex's voice dripped with sarcasm, though on the inside he was starting to feel sick to his stomach. He had only wanted to get a rise out of Dean, but now he suspected that his words were just a little bit too close to the truth; he hadn't meant to hit so close to home. He was in too deep to back out now, though.

"You'll pay for that, Luthor."

Lex stepped up and got right up in his face. "What are you gonna do? Fight me?"

"There won't even be a fight. You're gonna be crying like a nine-year-old. Like Clark."

"Clark's stronger than he looks. He could take out Sam in a fight, easy."

Dean scoffed. "Sam could take _you_ out."

"It's not Sam I want to fight."

Dean's voice lowered even further. "Midnight. Out on this field."

Lex's heart skipped. He had a little bit of training in self defense, but Dean was a lot bigger than he was; even if Lex won the fight, he wasn't getting out of it without taking a few nasty hits. Despite the practice he'd had from his father's beatings, he really didn't do well with pain—but it was quite worth it for a chance to pound Dean's stupid face in. "Midnight," Lex said.

Dean straightened up suddenly, and Lex turned to see where he was looking—Sam and Clark approached the truck, smiling. "Hey guys," Clark said. "Since we're all friends now, do you want to play basketball? Brothers versus brothers?"

Lex breathed in to say he didn't think it was a good idea, but Dean spoke first: "Game on."

Lex set his jaw. It was absolutely on. He had nothing against Sam, but he was _not_ going to let Dean beat Clark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm adding this author's note because people have been mentioning it to me: predictions on who will win the basketball game? (It's not going to be a big part of the story at all, but I'm curious as to your thoughts.)


	7. Midnight

Lex looked at his watch for the millionth time that night, laying on the floor despite Clark's insistence that it was his turn to take the bed. 11:56. He'd been looking forward to this, but now that the time was almost here, he was almost regretting having agreed to the fight.

Not that he was afraid. He definitely wasn't afraid of Dean, even though Dean had won the basketball game earlier. Clark and Lex _had_ been winning—Clark was small, but he was fast, and his aim was amazing. But then Clark had run into Sam, Sam had fallen and needed a band-aid for his scraped elbow, and Mr. Kent had taken Clark aside to scold him. Clark came back deflated with swollen eyes, and Lex and Clark never made another basket.

Lex put on his cap and tightened the strap in the back—not that it would do any good, since Dean was almost certain to knock it off. He tiptoed out of Clark's room and slipped outside.

The cold air bit at his skin. Lex almost wished he was wearing more than a t-shirt and shorts, but he needed his full range of motion tonight.

Dean was already there. He'd been pacing, but when Lex arrived, he stopped and crossed his arms.

"You're late," Dean said.

"Your watch is off," Lex said. Dean was dressed more warmly, but he'd also been out in the cold for longer. Lex hoped that would work to his advantage. He'd known Dean was bigger than he was, but he felt especially aware of it now. He was also starting to feel nauseous with guilt for fighting on the Kent property. The Kents had been nothing but kind to them.

Dean must have noticed his hesitance. "Scared?"

Hearing Dean's mocking voice aggravated him. It reminded him why he was here. "Not likely." Lex braced himself, placing his feet in a fight stance and remembering what his trainer taught him. "Let's agree—no hits below the belt. No blows to the face. No marks the Kents can see."

"No promises," Dean said.

Lex swallowed hard—it had been worth a try. "Ready?"

Dean cracked his knuckles. "Let's do this, Luthor."

* * *

Over the years, Sam had run into a fair number of bullies that Dean had had to deal with when no one was looking. He knew how to teach someone a lesson. He was never overly cruel about it—the point wasn't to kill them or even torture them. The point was to make them regret what they'd said, to teach them that it was always a bad idea to mess with Winchesters. To protect Sam. The trick was to intimidate more than scar, for the fear to be worse than the pain.

If Dean was angry enough to find the revenge satisfying, well, that was just a perk.

This was no different from that. Lex had no loyalty to his own family, and he'd insulted Dean's. Dean had also found a newspaper with some stories about the Luthors—Dean should have known he was a rich kid. It was always the rich ones that acted like that. Dean almost felt sorry for the guy, but sorry didn't do anyone any good. He didn't feel sorry for himself for his own situation. Lex still had to learn his lesson.

Dean swung his fist, just slow enough to let Lex dodge—and Lex did. He was breathing just a little faster when he came back up.

He swung again, and again, each time allowing Lex to dodge, but never giving him any time to swing back. Then he faked out a left handed punch and swung for real—only to feel a sharp kick to his side, just under the rib cage. He grunted and straightened up. Lex smirked.

This little punk could actually fight!

No need to waste energy trying to fake him out, then. Dean couldn't afford to exhaust himself. He started throwing punches hard and fast. Less than half connected. He hit harder than Lex did, but Lex landed more hits. Meanwhile, Dean had counted on Lex having a low pain tolerance, but Dean was really starting to hurt, and Lex didn't seem to be slowing down.

He needed to catch Lex by surprise. He aimed a punch to Lex's face, and Lex held up a hand to block. The block succeeded, but Lex ended up knocking his cap off.

Reflexively, Dean stepped back.

He had already known Lex was bald. The cap didn't really cover it. But seeing the completely smooth, pale skin was still startling. Lex's face turned bright red—as red as Dean would have been if he'd suddenly realized he was naked.

Dean looked down. "Uh, okay, time out."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Lex put the hat back on and resume the fight stance, panting a little. "Okay," Lex said.

Dean raised his fists again, but a scream rang out in the distance.

Both of them froze. It didn't come from inside the house. It wasn't from the direction of the cabin where Sam and Dean had been, either—it was in the other direction.

"You heard that?" Dean asked.

Lex nodded. He turned to face in the direction it had come from. "From over there."

"What's over there? Do you know?"

Lex shook his head. "I haven't been around Smallville much. I—"

He was cut off when Mr. Kent came up behind both of them. He grabbed one of each of their ears and started dragging them back toward the house.

Dean had to trot to keep up. "Mr. Kent, it's not—"

"Save it. I saw you two from out of the window."

Lex said, "How did you—"

"Clark heard you leave the house."

Dean winced at a harder tug, but Mr. Kent let them go as soon as they were in the house, depositing each of them in a chair at the dinner table. Dean wanted to press his cold hand against his burning ear, but Lex didn't touch his ear at all, so Dean left his alone. It was probably better that way—he needed to keep listening for more screaming. If he heard anything else, he was going to run to help, no matter what Mr. Kent or anyone else said.

"Now," Mr. Kent said, sitting across from them. "Explain."

* * *

Mr. Kent yelled for a long time. He talked about how the Kents had rules and expectations for people under their roof, and how Dean and Lex had taken advantage of their hospitality, and how disappointed he was because he believed they could do better.

Lex barely processed any of it. He was still thinking about that scream. From the few glances he snuck at Dean, he could tell Dean was still thinking about the same thing. Lex considered interrupting Mr. Kent to say something, but he knew from experience how badly interrupting a scolding could go. It would almost be better to take off into the night after Mr. Kent was done lecturing. Besides, the more he thought about it, the less sure he was that the scream had meant anything. He'd heard teenagers at his school scream louder while they were playing around. This was Smallville—nothing ever happened in this town.

Meanwhile, the longer Lex sat, the more his abdomen and ribs were hurting. He expected Mr. Kent to tell them they were going to have double the workload the next day, but he actually said the opposite—told them they were grounded to the house tomorrow, and they would be helping out Mrs. Kent while they healed. Lex was surprised, but he was thankful for that much. They were getting off pretty easy for fighting. Even the ear pulling had been more uncomfortable than truly painful.

When Mr. Kent was done shouting, Mrs. Kent came in and placed down two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, then she left and came back with a first aid kit and a stack of cold compresses. She gave them a little time to drink and warm up—the hot chocolate was thick and sweet, but Lex barely tasted it.

Mrs. Kent told them to take their shirts off so she could patch them up. She didn't scold or yell. She was silent as she patched up their bleeding knuckles and iced their bruises, her fingers gentle even as her eyes pierced them with daggers. When she was finished, she looked from Lex to Dean and said, "Clark and Sam were worried sick about you. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

That hurt more than anything Mr. Kent had said.

The lights were on when Lex got back to Clark's room, and Clark was sitting up in bed. "I saw you out the window," Clark whispered. "Sorry I tattled on you."

"Oh. It's okay." They should have paid better attention to where they chose to fight.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm just tired."

"Does it hurt?" Clark asked.

"I'm fine," Lex said, but he realized it might have been a little more effective if he hadn't just been limping and wincing with every other step.

"Is Dean okay?"

"Yeah."

"You said you were going to be friends with Dean." Clark's eyes were wide and shining.

"I know."

"Can you try harder?"

And Lex had thought Mrs. Kent's words had stung. "Okay."

Clark jumped out of bed. "You should take the bed. He punched you really hard." He crawled into the mess of blankets on the floor, but then he looked up and pouted. "But you punched him, too."

"I know. I'm sorry." Lex was in too much pain to argue about the bed. He climbed into the warm softness, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"You'll say sorry to Dean tomorrow, too?"

"Yeah, sure." Lex was already drifting off.

* * *

Sam had already fallen back to sleep by the time Dean arrived in his room. Dean was thankful to get to save that conversation for the morning, but Sam had also taken the bed—Dean grimaced all the way down to the hard floor.

That scream still echoed in his mind.

Had Dean brought his gun with him when he went out to fight Lex, he probably would have run in the direction of the scream right away. But he knew better than to bring a gun to a fistfight. And he knew better than to run into a hunt unprepared or alone.

It definitely hadn't been a playful scream. Dean had been trained to know the difference. And of course, if the screaming continued, he would probably have run for it anyway. But if you didn't already have a plan and a weapon, a single scream wasn't worth running after.

A single scream meant you were already too late.


	8. Investigation

Sam was livid when he saw Lex and Dean fighting. He was thirteen. He did _not_ need his older brother to fight his battles for him. Besides, Lex was alright. He had actually been a pretty good sport about the basketball game, and Clark thought the world of him. Dean was on edge about his father abandoning him, but so was Lex—Sam had overheard Mr. and Mrs. Kent talking about it. Lex and Dean should have been friends, not rivals. Sam would have been as annoyed at Lex as he was at Dean, but Lex wasn't his brother. Clark could deal with Lex.

Sam pretended to be asleep when Dean came into the room after the fight. He knew his brother—if he started telling him off now, they would just argue, and probably end up yelling and waking up the whole household all over again. So Sam decided to let Dean lie on the hard floor for the remainder of the night with his cuts and bruises. Dean would stew over everything that had happened, and he'd be much more ready to talk in the morning.

Dean tossed and turned on the floor, though, his restlessness frequently accompanied by slight gasps of pain, which meant Sam couldn't get to sleep, either. Finally, Sam sat up in bed—apparently, they were doing this tonight.

"Dean," he whispered.

"Did you hear the scream?"

Sam blinked a couple of times, and he stood to turn on the light. "What scream?"

Dean rubbed his eyes, groaning as he sat up. "It sounded like someone got killed."

Sam sat back down on the bed. " . . . Was it Dad?"

"No, no. It was a woman."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. It came from the opposite direction as our cabin."

Sam swallowed hard. "It could be whatever Dad was hunting."

"Probably."

"Are you going to go investigate in the morning?" Most monsters were more active at night, and this one definitely wasn't an exception, if it had made its kill shortly after midnight. It was safer to scout out during the daytime.

"I'm grounded to the house tomorrow."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And that's going to stop you?"

"The Kents know I'm a flight risk. They're going to be watching me, and if I run off, they'll probably call the police."

"Well, maybe they should!"

Dean's eyes pierced Sam's. "You _know_ what happens if they do."

Sam winced. Their dad had drilled that into them enough times. It was never worth the risk of getting CPS involved. "Well, what if we leave right now? We can at least do some recon . . ."

Dean let his breath out. "I'm hurt, Sam. I can barely sit up straight. I'll be useless in a fight."

Sam breathed in to suggest that maybe he could go by himself tomorrow, but he stopped himself at the last minute. Dean would forbid it without even really stopping to think about it, and then anything Sam did to try to sneak away about be suspicious. But if Sam didn't say anything, Dean wouldn't suspect anything. Sam would just slip away when he was supposed to be doing chores, do enough recon to know what kind of creature they were dealing with, and be back before anyone knew he was gone.

He was thirteen. He was old enough to scope out a kill site; he knew what to look for, and he knew what to avoid.

The only challenge was that he _really_ didn't know his way around this area, and he didn't have any sort of map or other guide. But he could figure that out when he got there.

* * *

Clark woke up early when his dad came in to get Lex. Clark started to get up to start chores, but his dad just told him to go back to sleep for awhile, since he'd been up so late the night before. Lex gave Clark a slight smile, but he limped on the way out of the room. Clark crawled up into the bed and tried to fall asleep, but he couldn't—he was already wide awake, and he was worried about his older brothers. After a few minutes, he tiptoed down the hall and went to sit at the top of the stairs.

Dean stood at the kitchen sink, washing the eggs Clark's mom had collected from the chickens the day before. Lex stood at the counter juicing lemons—Clark's mom made the best lemonade in the world. He smiled a little to himself—being grounded to the house was one of the nicer punishments on the Kent farm. Clark's parents usually assigned house chores when Clark was still upset or hurting over whatever had happened. Mom was always so nice to him, even when she was angry. When Dad gave him extra outside chores or took away privileges, Clark tried to behave better to avoid it happening again; but when it was Mom who disciplined him, he did better because he couldn't stand the thought of disobeying his parents again.

Clark's mom put a gentle hand on Dean's back and spoke to him quietly for a minute, then she did the same to Lex. Clark smiled. They were going to be okay.

Clark's dad called him down for breakfast a few minutes later. Everyone else at the table looked exhausted. Clark figured he was lucky because of his powers. He was never tired. He sometimes got bored and told his dad he was tired, though. Dad got upset when Clark said he was _bored_ from chores, but he gave Clark a break if he said he was _tired_ of them.

Dean and Lex had to stay in the house and wash the dishes from breakfast, but Clark and Sam went out to take care of the horses.

The morning before, Sam had hurried straight to the barn, eager to see the animals. Today, he stopped on their way. "What's out that way?" Sam pointed out in the direction of the abandoned warehouse that Pete always used to dare Clark to go into.

Clark shifted his weight. "Um, nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Lots more cornfields, some trees."

Sam gave Clark a look.

Clark sighed. "And a creepy warehouse I hate."

"That scary?"

"No!" Clark wasn't usually scared of anything, since he was too strong and fast for anything to hurt him, but that warehouse had made him feel so nervous, he'd wanted to throw up. Even more nervous than he felt when Lana was around—and one time, he actually _had_ thrown up when he tried to go talk to Lana. But he didn't want Sam to think he was a wuss.

"Mm." Sam squinted in its direction. "How far off, do you think?"

"I dunno. A couple of miles?" The day after his last birthday, Clark had gotten his mile time down to a minute, but it took him almost five minutes to run out to where the warehouse was and back.

"Hm."

"Um, do you want to explore the town after dinner? Dean is grounded to the house, so you won't have to do your training. We could go explore instead of playing basketball."

"That's okay, Clark. I'd really like to see the warehouse."

Clark stood up a little straighter. "I can show you. I'm not scared!"

Sam frowned, looking him over.

"I'm _super_ brave. And I know the way. You'll get lost if you try to go out in the cornfields and the trees on your own, it's kind of like a maze."

"It could be dangerous, though."

"Then why do you want to go?"

"Because . . ." Sam sighed. "I think there might be clues about where my dad is."

"Oh!" Clark bounced on his toes. "I want to help you!"

"No, Clark—"

"If I come with you, we can ride on horseback. Dad won't let you take a horse by yourself."

"He'll let you take one by yourself, though?"

Clark nodded. His dad had said he wasn't worried about it, because of his strength and because he'd been around the horses since he was little.

"Hm." Sam began to pace. "I don't know, Clark. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't! If anything dangerous happens, we can make the horses run away really fast!" The horses weren't faster than Clark, but they were a lot faster than his dad.

"I've . . . never ridden a horse before," Sam said.

"Oh. Well, it's not that hard." Clark remembered that Pete had had a hard time when they first started, but Sam was a lot older. It would probably be easy for him, at least if they were walking.

Sam crossed his arms, looking down. He glanced out in the direction of the warehouse again, then over at Clark. "You promise to run away if anything is dangerous?"

"I promise." Clark wondered why Sam was so worried—the warehouse was spooky, but it wasn't actually _dangerous_.

"Even if _you_ don't think anything is that bad. If _I_ say it's dangerous, you'll run away?"

"Um, sure." Clark figured he didn't have much of a choice but to promise. Sam wouldn't let him come otherwise. And Clark really wanted to help Sam and Dean find their dad. It would mean they had to leave sooner, but if Clark was helpful enough, maybe their dad would let them visit next summer or even at Christmastime.

Sam nodded slowly. "Okay. After dinner."

Clark grinned.


	9. Green Rocks

The last thing Sam wanted was to take a nine-year-old with him on a recon mission. Dean would kill him if he found out. But Clark had a point—the cornfields would be a maze to Sam, even if they weren't a literal maze, and being on a horse would give him a serious advantage.

Dinner time wasn't as tense as Sam had expected it to be. Lex and Dean weren't exactly chatting, but they weren't fighting with each other. Sam also hadn't been sure whether Clark could keep a secret, but Clark didn't let anything slip about going to the warehouse. He did, however, ask his dad whether he and Sam could go horseback riding. Mr. Kent told Clark to make sure to be back before dark, which was fine with Sam, though Clark whined a little when Mr. Kent said he'd have to wear a helmet.

Getting onto the horse was more difficult than Sam had expected. Clark stood holding the horse in place, but it still took Sam well over a minute to get into the saddle, and he almost kicked the horse on his way up and over.

"It's best if you sit up straight," Clark said as he climbed onto his own horse with what seemed to be no effort, despite being about half its height. "My friend Pete had a hard time with that. Also, be gentle with the reins. You can hold onto the saddle horn if you want. Don't kick her in the side, she'll think you want to run."

Sam nodded, forcing himself to sit up straight and gripping onto the saddle horn with one hand, just for a little extra stability. Sam's horse followed Clark's, keeping a gentle pace. Clark was right—it wasn't too bad, but he was nervous about what would happen if they did need to run.

It didn't matter. _Clark_ could hold on if his horse needed to run away; Sam was more worried about the younger kid's safety than his own. He knew how to handle himself in a fight, and he had brought Dean's gun with him. Besides, the Kents ate dinner early, and it was summer; there were still at least three hours left until sunset.

Clark lead the way around the outer edges of the cornfield. Sam's heart pounded, from the thrill of being up so high, out of nervousness about what he was going to find, and in anticipation of how Dean was going to react when he found out Sam had gone out to do recon without permission. But he didn't think he had many options. Their dad could be injured or trapped; another day could be the difference between life and death. Sam didn't always get along well with his dad, but he would have been devastated if something happened to him and he could have helped.

One thing at a time. Sam focused most of his attention on staying on the horse.

It took a lot longer to get to the warehouse than Sam had been expecting. Clark said it was just a couple of miles, and they were definitely walking faster than Sam could have walked on foot, but he was sure he could walk two miles in under an hour, and it felt like they'd been on the horses for a lot longer than that. Clark chatted for most of the trip, pointing out places he'd played with his friend Pete and telling stories about things he'd done on the farm.

When the sky started to darken, Sam cut off Clark in the middle of a sentence. "Clark, where's the warehouse?"

"Oh." Clark's face turned pink. "It's, um, it's that way." He pointed vaguely.

"Clark! We should have been there an hour ago."

"I'm sorry! It's just, it's scary."

Sam groaned. He should have just come out here on his own. "I thought you said you were super brave."

"I am!" Clark straightened up.

"I really need to get there to find clues about my dad."

"I know!" Clark said, and he directed his horse to turn. "We're going, we're going."

Sighing, Sam guided his horse to follow.

They reached the warehouse—or rather, what was left of it—a few minutes later. It was more like a huge pile of ruins. Definitely the kind of place where a monster would hide. Even seeing the warehouse from the outside ruled out quite a few possibilities of monster types, but investigating closer could give him more hints. From this distance, all he could see were a bunch of glowing green rocks surrounding the ruins.

"Wow." Sam climbed down from the horse; it was easier to get down than it had been to get up.

"Yeah," Clark said, but his face was pale.

Sam figured it was just fear; the best thing he could do was to distract him. "How did it get to be this way?"

"It was hit so many times on the day of the meteor shower, they didn't think it was worth it to rebuild it. So it's just been this way ever since." Clark winced and doubled over. "Sam, I _really_ don't feel good."

"Whoa, take it easy." Sam hurried over to him—he looked like he might fall. This was worse than just fear; something was wrong with the kid.

Clark's eyes fluttered closed, and he fell off the other side of the horse.

" _Clark!_ " Sam ran around to where Clark had fallen.

There was no one there.

Sam's breathing picked up, and he raced in circles. "Clark! _Clark!_ "

A human-like figure was beside him in an instant—a creature completely covered in glowing green and blue tattoos stood over him, reaching a hand toward him. Sam jumped back, pulled the gun from his pocket, and took aim.

The creature did not react to the gun; it took a step toward Sam.

Sam cocked the gun and fired, then did it again. Both bullets hit. The momentum of the first shot knocked the creature back a little, and the second caused it to stumble, but neither made it fall.

Sam fired one more shot and bolted for the horse. He scrambled onto her back and kicked hard, and they ran toward the farm.

He clung on for dear life all the way back to the farm. Dean was definitely going to kill him, and Sam absolutely deserved it, but hopefully Dean would help him save Clark first.

* * *

Dean let his breath out as he and Lex quietly finished the last of the dishes from dinner. The day's work had been easy enough—washing eggs, sweeping floors, making sandwiches at lunchtime, and taking care of his and Sam's laundry had given him some time to think things over. After some reflection, Dean was more embarrassed that he'd let the rich kid provoke him than he was actually upset with Lex himself.

Once the dishes were done, Mrs. Kent told them they could head to bed early. Dean wondered if it was supposed to be part of the punishment, but he appreciated it. He had barely slept the night before, and even the easy house chores were starting to exhaust him. Mrs. Kent gave him a smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder before he headed up to his room, and something in Dean's chest twinged as he remembered his own mom.

No sooner had his back hit the mattress than Sam came charging into the room, his face pale. "Dean, I'm so sorry, I messed up, but we have to hurry, it's got Clark—"

Dean shot up, fatigue forgotten. "What happened?"

"I took Clark to do some recon out where you heard the scream, and—"

"You _took_ Clark?"

"He was just showing me the way. I was just going to look for clues—"

"He's nine years old, and you're only thirteen!"

"I know, but I wasn't gonna fight it! But I was just gonna see if I could figure out what kind of creature it was—"

" _Sammy!_ " Dean resisted the urge to smack his little brother upside the head. Sam _knew_ better—the thought of something happening to Sam was enough to make Dean want to pummel him for putting himself in danger.

"Something came and grabbed him. He passed out as soon as it touched him. It tried to come after me, too. I shot at it, and it slowed it down enough for me to get away, but it was still alive."

"And you're sure Clark was, too?"

"I—I think . . . but I don't know . . ." Sam's lower lip trembled, and Dean was glad he hadn't hit him.

"The thing that took Clark, what did it look like?"

"Like a man, mostly, but it was covered in tattoos, some of them were glowing." Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "We have to do something, Dean!"

Dean swallowed hard and stood. " _We_ are not doing anything. You're going to stay here this time."

"You can't go into a hunt alone!"

"Well, I'm not bringing you along. It's too dangerous."

"The Kents won't let you leave the house."

"I'll leave after they fall asleep."

Sam winced. "What do we tell the Kents about Clark?"

"Think of a cover story. They'll call the police if we tell them he was taken."

"I know. Maybe they should."

Dean shook his head. "No, the police can't help. You know that."

"But you can't fight this thing on your own. It's super fast, and bullets don't stop it!"

"Let me figure that out. Did you see Mr. and Mrs. Kent on your way in?"

"No, I think they're getting ready for bed."

Dean grabbed his jacket from the bedpost, where he'd hung it. "Be ready to cover for Clark. I'm going to get him."

"Let me help! I'll follow you, and—"

"You do that, and I'll tell Dad all about what you did today."

Sam's eyes sparkled. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

Sam's nose wrinkled. "Fine. Come back quick, okay?" He took the gun out of his pocket and handed it over. "It's low on ammo."

Dean pocketed the gun. He was torn between throwing his arms around his little brother out of gratitude that he was safe, and punching him in the arm until he swore never to run off and do something so stupid ever again. He settled for a stern glare and a clap on the shoulder before stalking out of the room.

He glanced in both directions before bolting for the front door.


	10. Big Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding myself extra motivated to get ahead on this series, in part because I'm in the middle of a suspenseful arc, and in part because all of your comments have been AMAZING. I resisted writing crossover fic in the first place because I didn't think anyone would read it, and I'm so glad to have been wrong. So just for this week, here's an extra chapter. Thanks for reading!

Clark woke up on the couch in the living room at home.

He sat up slowly. His stomach and head still hurt a little—he was _not_ used to that—but other than that, he was okay. He barely remembered what had happened the night before.

"Morning, Clark."

Clark sat up, pushing the covers aside, as Lex came into the room. There was something different about Lex, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then it hit him—Lex wasn't wearing his cap.

"Good morning," Clark said. He looked around, trying to remember what had happened. "Did I fall asleep in here?"

"You passed out and fell off your horse by the warehouse. Your dad had to come out and find you, and your mom wanted to keep an eye on you, so they put you on the couch."

Clark's heart skipped. He was supposed to get back by dark. "Are they mad?"

"No, but I don't think he's going to let you ride horses by yourself until you're older."

Clark let his breath out. That was sad, but fair.

"Sounds like you took a nasty fall. Are you sure you're okay?"

Clark nodded, squinting a little. He could have sworn he remembered someone grabbing him and pulling him off the horse, but it must have just been his imagination.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Lex said. "Mom told me to call you in for breakfast."

"Um, you mean my mom?"

"Mine, too. My dad's not making me leave."

Clark sat up straighter. "Really?"

Lex smiled. "Really."

"But aren't you going to miss him?"

"Honestly, he was horrible to me. Your parents are so much nicer."

"So, we're going to be, like, _real_ brothers?"

"Yep."

Clark shot up off the couch and threw his arms around Lex, almost forgetting to be mindful of his strength. Lex hesitated, but then wrapped his arms around Clark as well.

Lex patted Clark's back. "Come on. Breakfast time."

Clark grinned and let go, then he followed Lex to the table. Sam and Dean were already there, dishing up blueberry pancakes. Those were Clark's favorite. His mom reached out and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the head before he sat down—normally, Clark would have been embarrassed that she did that in front of the older boys, but he figured she couldn't help it, since she'd probably been worried about him the night before.

"So, Sam and Dean," Clark's dad said as he poured milk into his coffee, "I got a call from your dad today."

Dean sat up straight, and Sam's eyes widened. "Is he okay?" Sam asked.

"Yes, he's fine. But he's caught up in work, and he asked if it would be alright if you stayed here for the rest of the summer."

Dean's breath caught. "Mr. Kent, I—I don't want to impose—"

"I already told him you boys are welcome to stay for as long as you want. He's glad you two have a safe place to be, so if it's alright with you two, he'll be leaving you here a lot more often."

"Wow." Dean's eyes widened. "I don't know what to say."

Clark's mom smiled. "Welcome to the family, boys. All three of you."

Clark grinned. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky. It was almost too good to be true.

After breakfast. Clark stayed inside to help his mom do the dishes. "Now that Lex and Sam and Dean are family, can I tell them my secret?"

"I don't see why not."

He bounced on his toes. "Can I tell them right now?"

"Let's finish the dishes first."

Clark groaned and used his super speed to finish the cleanup in less than five seconds. "There. Now can I go?"

"Clark Kent, you know you don't use your powers without permission."

"Mo-om, I'm just excited about my new brothers!"

"I know you are, but that's no excuse to break house rules."

Clark lowered his head. "Sorry, Mom."

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "Go."

Clark reached up and kissed her cheek as well, then super-sped out to the barn.

Sam was the first to see him coming. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Clark? How—how did you do that?"

"I've been wanting to tell you guys," Clark said, and Lex and Dean's eyes turned toward him as well. "I have superpowers."

"Superpowers?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! I'm _really_ fast, and _really_ strong."

"I just saw it," Sam said. "He was faster than a car."

Clark sped around the house and barn, and he was back to his starting place a few seconds later. When he returned, both Dean and Lex were staring at him in awe.

"That's amazing, Clark," Lex said, but Dean couldn't speak. His jaw hung open.

"Oh, do you want to see my strength?"

"If you're willing," Lex said.

Clark glanced around the yard, and his eyes fell on his dad's truck. He walked over and braced a hand under it, then, after a few deep breaths, he lifted the front of it over his head.

"Whoa!" Sam cried.

Clark grinned and lowered it down, then returned to his friends. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

"It's okay, Clark," Lex said. "You're right to keep it a secret. That kind of information could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"But I can trust you guys?"

All of them nodded emphatically. Dean looked him right in the eyes and said, "But we're going to keep an eye on you. Those are some pretty powerful gifts. If you ever use your abilities to hurt anyone—"

"I won't, I promise!" Clark shook his head.

Dean nodded solemnly. "I know you won't."

Sam was still smiling. "This is so cool, Clark. We should play basketball later, but three against one."

Clark laughed. "Sounds like fun!"

"Boys!" Clark's dad called from the barn. "Come on, what's taking you?"

The older boys started immediately toward the barn, but Lex headed toward Clark instead. He ruffled his hair and proudly whispered, "My little brother's a superhero," before heading over to follow Sam and Dean.

Clark looked away, his eyes feeling watery. This was everything he had wished for.

It was hard to believe he wasn't dreaming.

* * *

When Dean arrived at the front door of the house to make his escape, Lex was already there in the entryway, arms crossed.

"Not in the mood, Luthor." Dean went to shove his way past.

Lex moved to block him. "I heard Sam talking. Clark's in danger, I'm coming with you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on. You know I can fight."

"Not against this."

Lex smirked. "I doubt you even know what it is."

Dean clenched his teeth. Lex was right about that. If bullets couldn't kill this thing, Dean really didn't have a plan. But that wasn't something Lex could help with. And minutes before a hunt was the wrong time to try to process the _Monsters are real_ speech.

"Glowing tattoos, super speed, invulnerability to bullets," Lex said. "It sounds like a creature I studied in mythology."

Dean blinked a couple of times. Lex might actually be useful. "Really?"

"Ever heard of a Djinn?"

"Ah, maybe?" It sounded familiar, but Dean sometimes had a hard time memorizing lore. Sam would be better at it, but Dean and his dad tried to keep Sam more sheltered.

"It's basically a genie. A wish-granting creature. According to legend, it kidnaps its victims and feeds on their blood while giving them hallucinations—they dream about their deepest desire on an endless loop until they die."

Dean swallowed—that thing had Clark, and Clark wouldn't even know to fight back. He'd just dream happily until he died of blood loss. Dean wondered idly what Clark might be dreaming about, but he forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. "What does the legend say about killing it?"

Shuffling sounds came from upstairs. Lex nodded toward the front door. "Need to head out. They'll think we're in bed unless they find us out here."

"Then I have to get moving. How do you kill a Djinn?"

"I'll tell you about it on the way."

"Damn it, Luthor, I don't have time for this!"

"Clark's like a little brother to me. I want to help."

"No. If you follow me, I'm gonna pummel you." It was for his own good; Lex knew a few hand-to-hand tactics, but he wasn't going to do well against a real monster.

"If you leave me behind, I'm going to tell the Kents where you are. But if you take me with me, I'll tell you all about what mythology says about Djinn. Including their weaknesses." Lex raised his eyebrows. "I'm guessing you need to know that."

Dean sighed heavily. Lex wasn't giving him a choice. He glanced one more time at the staircase before grabbing Lex's arm and shoving him outside.

"You better not be bluffing, Luthor," Dean growled as they walked. "And you'd better keep up."

Lex just smiled and followed along.

Dean trudged through the pitch-dark forest in the direction of the cabin. According to Sam, bullets hadn't been enough to stop the monster, but they could slow it down. He needed to reload his weapon. "Okay, Luthor. Tell me how to kill this thing."

Lex frowned. "Actually, I think it's your turn to talk."

"I said I'd take you with me. I never promised not to slug you."

"And you know I can give as good as I get. Let's both save our strength for the Djinn."

Dean's muscles tightened, but he knew Lex was right. He was still sore from their fight the night before.

Lex's expression hardened. "So. Monsters are real."

"Yeah. How did you know?" Dean asked.

Lex shrugged. "I didn't."

Dean had heard a few people's responses to first finding out about monsters, but this nonchalance was a new one. "And you're just . . . okay with it?"

"Seven years ago, a meteor shower hit this town. Meteorologists and astronomers have never been able to explain it, and some people say the meteor rocks have . . . effects, on people. Look into it, and you start hearing stories. Eventually, nothing surprises you anymore."

"Why do you care about what happened in Smallville seven years ago?"

"Because I was there."

Dean waited for Lex to go on, but he didn't. "Okay, but what does that have to do with the Djinn?"

"It doesn't. But let's just say it's made me a little more open-minded about the weird and unexplained."

"Fair enough." Dean thought most people would consider it crazy, but he'd been living this life for too long to relate to that.

"So how do you know about monsters?" Lex asked.

Dean's throat tightened. Lex hadn't shared about what he was doing at the meteor shower; Dean didn't have to tell him about his mom. But he did have to tell him something, since Lex kept clamming up every time Dean tried to force his way in this conversation. He settled on, "My dad fights them. A week and a half ago, he left us in a safe place to go on a hunt, and he never came back."

"Oh." Silence for a moment, then, almost whispered, "I'm sorry."

Dean cleared his throat. "Enough of that. We're almost at the cabin. I need to know how to fight this thing."

"Cabin?"

"Yeah. Need to load up on weapons. So you need to tell me what to grab."

"Ah. Well, I'm not sure you'll have it. According to the legends I read, you need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"Silver knife, check. And this is farming country. I'm sure we can find a lamb."

Lex winced. "We're gonna kill a lamb?"

Dean smirked. "Yep. Then, we're gonna kill a Djinn."


	11. Lamb's Blood

Dean picked up some extra ammo, another gun, and a couple of flashlights at the cabin. He'd also meant to grab both of his dad's silver knives, but only when he went to grab them did he realize that one of them was missing. Dean could have kicked himself for not noticing that his dad had taken it—that would have been a major clue in figuring out what his dad had been hunting—but he let it go, considering he hadn't even really known what a Djinn was until Lex told him.

"Ever shot a gun before?" Dean asked Lex.

"Yeah," Lex said.

That hadn't been what Dean was expecting to hear, but he didn't make any comments. He held out one of the guns, and Lex pocketed it.

Dean wasn't sure how to get to the warehouse from the cabin, so he headed back toward the Kent farm instead. Using the Kent farm as his base, he could explore the other local farms until he found one that kept sheep, then he could backtrack and follow the direction of the scream from the night before.

Finding a farm that housed sheep was easy enough. Dean had half expected to enjoy the squeamish grimace on Lex's face when he killed the lamb, but he found it wasn't nearly as satisfying as he had expected. Truth was, Dean really didn't like killing animals, especially young, defenseless ones. But it had to be done—Clark needed their help.

"How long does it take for the victims to die?" Dean asked as they walked toward the warehouse.

"Ah, the lore varies. Usually, twenty-four hours, but Clark is pretty small. Maybe closer to twelve for him."

Dean nodded. It had probably been two or three hours since Sam had come to let him know that Clark had been taken. As long as they kept moving, they should be fine.

"Anything else I should know about it?" Dean asked.

"Trying to remember," Lex said. "I didn't think I'd need to know this stuff in the real world, so I wasn't exactly pressing my lit professor for details."

"Do they hunt in packs?"

"No. They're territorial, and they're supposed to be really rare."

At least that much was encouraging. Dean had no idea what he would have done with a single knife against a dozen or more monsters.

The destroyed warehouse was surrounded by glowing green rocks—he wondered if Sam had seen them, or if he knew they were from the meteor shower. The door hung from one hinge, damaged and rusted over. Dean took a deep breath, then he pushed the door open.

It looked like this had once been a factory of some sort, before the meteors, fires, and weather had taken their toll. Machinery was overturned everywhere, making it impossible to see to even to the far wall.

"Should we split up?" Lex said. "We'll find Clark faster that way."

Dean shook his head. "We've only got the one knife. Stay behind me."

Lex frowned, but he didn't say anything, just followed close behind.

Dean shone his flashlight into the mess of fallen machinery. Something caught his eye—it looked like a hand. He tiptoed closer, shifting the beam from his flashlight.

It fell on a pale face.

Lex gasped and jumped back, but Dean had seen too many dead bodies in his life to be startled. "It's okay," he muttered, and took a step closer, crouching down to get a closer look. The body didn't smell yet, but the skin was completely colorless. The woman had been drained—Lex was right about the creature drinking blood.

"You think she was the one who screamed last night?"

Dean's heart sank. It had been just over twenty-four hours since then. If they'd come here earlier, they might have been able to save her.

Dean could beat himself up for that later. Right now, they needed to make sure Clark wasn't the next one to be drained and dumped.

Meanwhile, Dean wasn't sure to be comforted or worried that his dad was nowhere in sight.

"Let's keep moving," Dean said, and Lex nodded.

Dean stood from the pile of machinery and turned around to find himself face to face with the creature. Its green and blue tattoos glowed in the dark warehouse.

He didn't think—just swung his flashlight as hard as he could. The Djinn grabbed hold of it mid-swing and followed its path, throwing Dean onto one of the machines. A bit of broken metal jabbed into Dean's leg, and his shoulder gave a sickening _crack!_ as his arm slammed hard against the wreckage.

Several gunshots sounded. Head swimming with pain, Dean looked up in time to see Lex fall back, his cap falling off as he shot twice more. The Djinn limped over to him, reaching toward him.

Dean yanked himself up and leapt between them, whipping out the bloodstained knife and jamming it into the Djinn's chest.

The creature stumbled back, its tattoos flickering for a moment, then going dark. Dean stood panting, and he held out a hand to Lex, helping him to stand.

Then the Djinn pulled the knife out of his chest, reaching toward them as its tattoos glowed brighter than ever, along with its eyes. It slashed at Lex with the knife, leaving a deep gash in his arm—Lex groaned and scrambled backwards.

"Ahh!" Dean pulled out his gun and shot a few more times, aiming for the head—brain damage usually did more to slow creatures down—as Lex grabbed his uninjured arm and half-lead, half-dragged him out of the warehouse.

* * *

Lex forced Dean to keep running, even when Dean's panting had turned into groans and he'd started quietly begging Lex to stop. Lex was sure they'd lost the creature, but he also didn't want to take any chances. Not while Dean was injured.

Everything in Lex wanted to go back, to take his chances. That thing still had Clark. But there was nothing he could do. If the silver knife dipped in lamb's blood didn't work, they had no idea how to kill the thing.

Finally, they came to a little clearing in the corn field. "No more," Dean choked out, and he pulled his arm away from Lex and limped to a stop.

Lex winced as he looked over Dean. Blood soaked the side of his jean leg from the calf down, and the arm Lex hadn't been dragging was hanging limp, the shoulder joint misshapen. Lex's forearm wasn't bad by comparison. The cut from the knife stung, and it had bled some, but that was the worst of it.

"Let me fix your shoulder," Lex said.

"I don't need your help," Dean growled.

Lex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Scared?"

Dean grumbled, but he took a step toward Lex and angled himself so Lex could reach his arm. Lex didn't give him any warning before popping his shoulder back into place. Dean shouted a long stream of curse words.

"Quit being such a baby," Lex said, but his heart wasn't really in it. Lex knew firsthand how painful resetting a dislocated shoulder could be.

Dean rolled his shoulder forward and backward, rubbing the joint. "How did you know how to do that?"

"Ah. Like I said, my dad's a real bastard."

Dean blinked a couple of times, looking away. Lex had felt bad earlier when Dean had said his own father hunted monsters—Lex had probably been too quick to assume that Sam and Dean had been abandoned on a whim, like Lex had been—but now, he relished Dean's discomfort as the tables turned. Dean had assumed Lex just had no family loyalty. Let him squirm.

Dean sat down on the dirt and leaned back, bracing himself against his good arm. "So the lore was wrong."

"Maybe." Lex sat beside him. "Do you have another knife? Maybe a smaller one?"

Nodding, Dean reached into his pocket and took out a pocket knife.

Lex cut away the denim around Dean's calf and started tearing it into strips, then he tied the strips tightly around the ragged gash in Dean's leg while Dean hissed in pain. It didn't look good, but the bleeding slowed. "Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?" Lex asked.

"What? I don't know."

Lex made a mental note to run that by the Kents when they got back to the farm, if they did manage to get out of this alive. Tetanus could be bad, but right now, the Djinn was more of an immediate threat.

"Bet this is what happened to my dad," Dean said. "He was probably injured in the hunt and had to regroup and figure out what to do next."

Lex didn't say anything. He didn't want to suggest what was obviously on Dean's mind—that his dad might already be dead.

"Wishing you'd paid better attention in mythology class?" Dean asked when Lex finished binding his leg.

"I paid attention. It's supposed to be a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"Well, apparently not."

"But there were pictures of Djinn in the books. The tattoos were usually blue."

"And green."

Lex shook his head. "Not green." He looked away for a moment—Lex knew his theory was crazy. Dean was going to laugh at him if he said what he was really thinking. Then again, Dean apparently fought monsters all the time. Maybe he wouldn't laugh.

Lex sat down across from him. "You know how I told you about what people have said about the meteor showers?"

"That the meteor rocks affect people in weird ways?"

"Yeah. Well . . . what if it does the same thing to monsters?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "A _mutant_ Djinn?" He groaned. "How are we supposed to kill a mutant Djinn?"

"Maybe if we had a lamb that had been infected by meteor rocks, too . . ."

"And where are we going to find that?"

Lex shrugged. "I don't know what to do, Dean."

It was quiet for a moment.

"We're going to have to tell the Kents," Lex said.

Dean sat up a little straighter. "No. We're not giving up on Clark."

"Dean—"

"You don't give up on family. Even you should know that."

"I don't want to, but his parents should know—"

"Did the lore mention any other weaknesses?"

"Uh . . ." Lex lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to remember.

There had been a story told about a Djinn who tried to use its powers of hallucination on an insane man, and it had been seriously disoriented. The man had become insane after witnessing the murder of his entire family; maybe trauma was enough.

Between Julian, Duncan, and Lex's mother, Lex wondered if he might be able to give the Djinn a run for its money.

Lex took a deep breath. "It's possible that if I let it take me, that might distract it for long enough for you to get Clark out of there and back to his parents."

Dean shook his head. "Then we won't have any way of getting you out."

Lex shrugged. "I don't matter. My dad'll be happy to get rid of me."

"Don't talk like that."

"It's true. And even if it wasn't, Clark's got parents and friends. A good life ahead of him. My life for his is more than a fair trade." In theory, Lex believed what he was saying, but his heart pounded so hard it hurt. He didn't know if he had the courage to walk to his own death, but he had to try.

Dean's jaw pulsed. "No. We'll find another way. You're not sacrificing yourself."

"Why do you care? You hate me."

"I don't want you to _die._ "

"And if it was Sam?"

Dean froze.

Lex let out his breath. "If it was Sam in there. Wouldn't you give your life without a second thought?"

"Yeah." Dean looked straight ahead. "I would."

Lex gave a slight smile. "I know Clark isn't really my brother. But . . . he calls me his. And I'm not sure blood is all that makes you family."

Dean nodded, slowly at first, then more emphatically. "Okay, Luthor." He pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go save your brother."


	12. Sacrifice

Lex hadn't really thought about living to an old age, but he certainly hadn't expected to die at sixteen, either.

In a way, there was a certain justice to it. He had taken two lives at this point, though he didn't expect to see any of the people he'd lost after death. He wasn't sure if he believed in heaven, but he knew that if it did exist, it had no place for him.

Lex's mind kept going through everything he knew about Djinn to see if there was another way. He seemed to recall something about what would happen if the victim died in the vision, but he couldn't remember whether suicide would wake the person up from the dream, or kill them sooner. He wished he'd paid better attention to the details—his father was always telling him how important that was, but then, he didn't always pay attention to his father, either.

Dean walked beside him back to the warehouse. If Lex had had his choice of who to be with for his last few hours on earth, Dean would never have come to mind, but there was something comforting about Dean's presence all the same. Dean wasn't a friend, so he wasn't trying in vain to reassure or comfort Lex, or to talk him out of his decision. He was just there. He kept a light grip on Lex's arm, limping heavily, but Lex wasn't sure if Dean really needed his support—Lex's own legs were shaking so hard that, at times, it seemed like Dean was the one who was supporting him.

The walk to the warehouse was all too long and all too short at the same time. As soon as it appeared in sight over the corn stalks, Dean stopped, let go of Lex's arm, and turned to look Lex right in the eyes. "I'm going to come back for you," he said.

"Get Clark to safety first."

"I will. But I'm not letting you die in there."

"You don't have anything that can kill this thing."

"I'll figure something out."

"Dean—"

"This is what my family does."

"Your dad's missing. Sam needs you alive."

"I'll be fine," Dean said.

Lex let his breath out. He should have learned by now that it wasn't worth trying to argue with Dean.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and a light breeze rustled the cornstalks and sent shivers down the back of Lex's neck. He'd lost his cap in the fight. He hadn't even noticed—Dean hadn't said a word about it.

"Give me a minute's head start," Lex said.

Dean just nodded. For a moment, Lex wondered if he was going to try to say something profound—wish him luck, or say good bye, or give advice for how to face death—but Dean didn't say anything. Lex was thankful for that.

His father's teachings actually came in handy on the last stretch of land leading up to the warehouse. Lex managed to stop his legs from shaking so hard that he couldn't walk at all. There was a moment's pause as he reached the door leading into the warehouse, and for a moment, he worried he was going to have to call out some awkward taunts to get the Djinn to come after him.

One instant, there was nothing; the next, the creature stood before him, reaching toward him. Lex hadn't even seen it coming, and he didn't even have time to pull out his gun before the Djinn's cold hand pressed against his neck.

In the seconds before he surrendered to sleep, Lex saw the Djinn's glowing tattoos flicker, blinding bright at times and completely dark at others, and it stumbled back. His trauma must be getting to it. It would have to be enough to buy Dean some time.

It didn't protect Lex from the hallucinations, though.

Within moments, he was waking up as if from a dream. He knew he was waking _into_ a dream, but it didn't feel that way to him. He was in Julian's old nursery, holding a warm bottle. His mother sat in a rocking chair on the corner, gently cradling him in her arms. She smiled at Lex as he brought over the bottle, and she squeezed his hand before looking down to feed the baby.

If Lex had to die, this wasn't a bad way to go.

* * *

Sam didn't sleep at all that night.

The Kents had bought his cover story easily enough when he went to say good night to them—he just told them that he and Clark had ended up stopping by Clark's friend Pete's house, and that Clark had stayed the night there. It was a small enough town that Sam guessed the parents were pretty comfortable sending their kids to stay with each other for the night, and it was late enough that the Kents didn't pick up the phone to check on his story. They did ask Sam whether Dean was already asleep, and Sam just said that he was.

Sam assumed it wouldn't be a problem. Dean would be back with Clark long before anyone woke up. Sam figured he'd sleep fine as soon as they came back.

But they didn't come back.

Sam's heart pounded harder and harder with each passing minute, and his adrenaline spiked when the first rays of light began to peek in through his curtains. Farmers tended to wake up with the sun. Sam was either going to have to play dumb, or come up with a more convincing cover story.

He wished he could just tell the Kents the truth. Sam didn't always completely agree with the rule about never telling anyone about what they did as hunters. He understood why they had the rule—most people would think he was crazy if he tried to tell them about monsters, and it was better for people's sanity to believe the world was safe. Sam wished he'd gotten a few more years of innocence himself. On the other hand, though, it would be cruel to lie to the Kents about what was happening to Clark.

Cruel to lie any more than he already had.

Sam was still undecided about what he was going to say when a loud knock on the door nearly jolted him out of his skin. Sam sat up in bed, pushing his covers aside. "C-come in," he said.

Mr. Kent threw the door open, flicked on the light, and stormed inside, crossing his arms. His eyes bore holes in Sam. "Okay. Where are they?"

Sam looked down at where Dean was supposed to be and forced his face to look surprised. "I—I don't—"

"Cut the crap. We know you lied last night. Clark's horse wandered back this morning without him. If he'd gone to stay with Pete, they wouldn't have let her wander free. I suggest you start talking before you make things worse for yourself."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face.

"Lex is gone, too. And Dean, apparently. I'm sure you know something about that."

Sam blinked in genuine surprise—he hadn't expected Lex to be gone. "I don't . . . maybe they forgot . . ."

"I'm going to call the police now." Mr. Kent took a step back toward the door.

" _Wait._ "

Mr. Kent's burning glare turned back to him.

Sam winced. "I'm _so_ sorry, Mr. Kent, Clark and I went out to that warehouse that got destroyed by the meteors, and Clark went to investigate, only I lost him and couldn't find him _anywhere_ and I ran back on Cinnamon and Dean and Lex went out to look for him—"

"—and you didn't _tell_ us? You lied to us when our son was missing?"

"I'm so sorry." Sam swallowed—he and Dean were absolutely getting kicked out as soon as they got Clark back. If they were all still alive. Sam forced that thought aside. "I know there's nothing I can say to—"

"Get up. Let's go."

"W-what?"

"To the warehouse."

"But . . ." Sam scrambled out of bed. He didn't exactly _want_ the Kents to find out the truth about monsters—it was a cursed knowledge, something they could never unlearn—but if they happened to find out about the creature that had taken Clark, that would at least help keep them from living with unsettled questions for the rest of their lives.

"Get dressed," Mr. Kent said. "If you're not down in two minutes, we're leaving without you."

With that, he left the room, closing the door behind himself.


	13. Rescue

The minute Lex fell, Dean rushed in.

He didn't bother trying to engage the Djinn in a fight to try to keep it from going after Lex. Dean had already spotted a side entrance to the warehouse. Part of him wanted to confront the Djinn before it could hurt Lex, but he still didn't really know how to kill the thing, and Lex's "dying" wish was that Dean would go save Clark first. Dean wasn't about to dishonor that.

The warehouse was huge, and the fallen machinery was a labyrinth. Dean couldn't exactly call out to Clark, either, if the kid was in some kind of hallucinogenic coma. He dodged his way through piles of debris and peered into each room he passed, careful not to knock anything over—the last thing he wanted to do was to squander Lex's sacrifice by making noise and drawing attention to himself.

Dean spotted Clark in the fourth room he peered into. The kid was passed out along the edge of the wall, his skin deathly pale, almost green. Dean darted into the room and knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse. It was weak—Dean needed to get him out of here.

"Clark," he whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Clark!" He shook it a little harder, but Clark's eyes remained stubbornly closed.

Dean didn't have time to wait for him to wake up. He lifted the kid with both arms and ran out of the warehouse as fast as he could.

As soon as he was outside, he didn't look back. He just ran.

A hundred yards into the cornfield, Clark stirred. Dean slowed to a stop, and Clark scrambled out of his arms, eyes wide with terror. "W-where am I?"

"It's okay, you're safe now. Do you remember anything?"

"I—I fell off my horse . . . there was a guy, with glowing tattoos, and then I was dreaming . . ."

"You okay now?"

Clark nodded. "I'm fine."

Dean gave him a skeptical look and glanced him over, but Clark didn't seem to be lying. Actually, he didn't have a mark on him, not even so much as a bite mark at his neck. Maybe the Djinn had been saving him to feed on him later, though Dean could have sworn he'd seen a few scrapes on the kid when he'd been on the floor.

"Okay," Dean said. "Stay here for a minute, okay?"

"Why?"

"There's something I gotta do."

"What?"

Dean grimaced—Clark didn't know about the monster, not really. If Dean could avoid haunting Clark's nightmares for the rest of his life . . . "It's nothing. Just promise me you won't move from right here."

"Um, okay."

Dean straightened up and began to jog back toward the warehouse. He wasn't sure how long it would take for the Djinn to notice Clark was gone and redouble its vigilance. If it dropped Lex in a room somewhere and left to find more victims, Dean might have a chance of getting Lex out in one piece. If it noticed Clark was gone . . .

Dean picked up the pace. It didn't matter. He had to try—that was what hunters did. That was what _Winchesters_ did.

He made his way into the side entrance to the warehouse, the same way he'd gone before. He started by heading back to the same room where he'd found Clark, but it was empty now. The Djinn was either storing victims separately from each other, or it wasn't thinking much about where to store people at all and was just dumping them randomly. Dean darted into the next room, then the next, resisting the urge to call out Lex's name.

One room had a particularly large pile of debris, but Dean thought he could see some open spaces underneath—he pushed aside a piece of metal as quietly as he could.

The entire pile collapsed with a sound like a thunderclap.

Dean didn't even hear the creature coming over the pounding of his own heart, but he turned to find himself face to face with the Djinn. He whipped out his gun and shot.

The bullet hit the thing right in the head, knocking it back for just long enough for Dean to bolt into the next room. He ran one lap around the fallen debris, leaping over piles of scrap metal as he needed to, before determining there was no one inside and sprinting toward the door again. The Djinn was waiting for him in the doorway.

He shot it in the head again, but this time his hands were shaking, and he missed. He grazed its ear and ran.

It followed him. It wasn't nearly as fast as it had been before running into Lex, and Dean knew if he wanted to, he could probably make it out of the warehouse and back to the cornfield. But he couldn't leave. Not without Lex.

On his way into the next room, Dean's bad leg caught on a sharp piece of metal. He fell back hard, and the gun skittered from his hand.

The Djinn leaned over him.

Dean scrambled backwards, reaching for the gun, but it had fallen under a big boxy machine.

It reached a tattooed hand toward him.

"Back off! Get away!" Dean's hand closed around the gun, and he pulled it out from under the machine.

" _Sleep_ ," the Djinn whispered, lightly touching Dean's neck. " _Sleep_."

Dean's head fell back, and he fought to stay awake as fogginess overcame him, fumbling with the gun in his hand. His fingers fell open, the gun fell, and his eyelids drooped—

And then the Djinn straightened up, shouting, its tattoos flickering and then going dim. It dropped, and it didn't move.

Sam stood behind it, eyes wide.

"Sam?"

"Dean!"

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Sam held out a hand to help Dean to his feet. "I tried to cover for you, but Mr. and Mrs. Kent got suspicious when they woke up this morning and found everyone gone. They threatened to call the police if I didn't fess up. We all drove over here. I'm glad we did."

Dean should have expected that. "Where are they?"

"We split up when we got here," Sam said. "This warehouse is enormous."

"Tell me about it." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "How'd you kill the thing?"

"Found this bloody silver knife." Sam knelt down beside the Djinn to pull the knife out of its back, wincing the whole time. "I'm guessing it's lamb's blood or something?"

"Uh . . . yeah, that and Lex's blood, I guess."

Sam gasped. "Is Lex okay?"

"It was just a cut. I think he's alright, just need to find him." Dean squinted. "But that knife didn't kill it before."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I stuck that knife in its chest last night and the thing pulled it out, cut Lex, and kept going."

"Oh." Sam shrugged. "Maybe you missed its heart yesterday?"

Dean shook his head—he was sure he hadn't, but they could figure it out later. There were more pressing issues at hand. "Ah, you haven't seen dad, have you?"

"No. Nowhere." Sam's eyes became shiny. "Where do you think he is?"

Dean let his breath out. "My guess? He came in here to fight this thing, got himself injured, and went to regroup. That's what's taking him so long. If he was dead, we'd have found his body."

"Then . . . he's going to come get us, now?"

Dean nodded. "We should wait for him at the cabin."

"We left a note there."

"Sam—"

"It could be a few days before he figures out what happened. And the Kents aren't going to let us go back to the cabin, unless we explain everything that happened here."

Dean groaned. "The Kents are going to kill us, aren't they?"

Sam smirked. "Yeah, probably."

Footsteps sounded from the next room, and Lex stumbled out from behind a pile of scrap metal.

"Luthor!" Dean actually had to resist the urge to run over and check on him. "Been looking all over for you." He made sure his voice sounded accusing rather than worried.

"Sorry. Next time I'm kidnapped by a mutated blood-sucking monster, I'll make sure to ask it to hide my unconscious body in a more convenient location."

"Yeah, you'd better." Dean fought back a smile.

Lex limped over to join them, eyes locked on the fallen Djinn. "Is Clark safe?"

"Yes," Dean said.

Lex nodded, still looking at the Djinn. "Is it dead?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled.

"You use the knife?" Lex asked.

"Yes," Sam said.

"I don't know why it worked this time," Dean said. "Only difference was . . ."

Lex spoke so quietly that Dean almost didn't hear him: "My blood."

That didn't add up to Dean. Lex's earlier theory had made more sense. "What, a meteor-infected Djinn needs human blood instead of lamb?"

"No." Lex frowned down at the fallen body. "A meteor-infected lamb."

" _What?_ "

Lex began to pace. "Lambs are usually symbolic in mythology. They refer to creatures of sacrifice."

"You mean, like, a sacrificial lamb?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "So, when you went to save Clark, that made you count as a lamb? So your blood worked?"

"Guess so."

It still didn't add up. "So, what? You're infected with the meteors now?"

Lex's eyes met Dean's. "One of these days, remind me to tell you how I lost my hair."

Dean blinked a couple of times.

Sam tugged on Dean's arm. "We should find the Kents before they see the dead Djinn and start asking questions."

Dean nodded and turned to Lex. "You okay to walk?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm fine," Dean said, and the three of them started toward the exit.

* * *

Clark sighed in the front seat of his dad's truck, squeezed in between Lex and his mom. There really wasn't enough room for the six of them in the truck, but he didn't mind being close to his parents and his brothers.

No, not his brothers. Just his friends.

Waking up from that dream was really sad. He'd really thought that he was going to have three new brothers, and he'd wanted that _so_ badly.

But even though he knew it wasn't true, it still _felt_ like he had three new brothers. After Dean had come back to find him in the cornfield, they'd all walked from the clearing back to the truck together. They hadn't said very much on the walk over. Clark didn't know exactly what had happened; his parents didn't seem to know, either.

On the way back, Clark's dad had given Dean and Lex each a light smack on the back of the head ("For breaking your grounding"), one to Sam ("For lying"), and one to Clark ("For scaring me"). Clark didn't like it exactly, but it did make it feel like they were all family, and his dad was especially gentle on Lex, who didn't have hair to cover his skin. Clark appreciated that.

Before they piled into the truck, his mom had given each of them a nice, long hug. Clark would have been embarrassed that she kissed him on the cheek in front of his friends, except that she did it to them, too. His mom didn't even do that to Pete.

Settled into his seat, Clark glanced over at Sam, who gave him a small smile. At Dean, who gave him a slight nod. Then at Lex, who wrapped an arm around him and squeezed him tightly.

Yeah, Clark still had what he wanted. Even if it was just for a little while.

Clark smiled, rested his head on Lex's shoulder, and let his eyes fall closed.


	14. Promise

Dean's stomach turned as they entered the house. While Clark helped Mrs. Kent work on breakfast, Mr. Kent brought the other three boys into the living room. They sat on the couch while Mr. Kent stood before them.

Dean was the first to speak, "Sir, I take full responsibility—"

"Do you boys have _any_ idea how worried we were?"

Dean hung his head. "About Clark."

"About _all_ of you, Dean." Mr. Kent looked right at Sam. "Sam, you lied to us."

"Dean told me to," Sam muttered.

"You know lying is wrong."

"Yes, but—"

"You're thirteen. You're old enough to know not to go along with everything your brother says."

"Yes, sir." Sam hung his head.

"Come here."

Sam's face filled with fear, and he glanced over at Dean, who didn't know what to make of any of this. Sam stood on shaky legs and went over to Mr. Kent.

Mr. Kent put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Are you okay, son?"

Sam's eyes shone. "I was really scared."

"I know you were." He pulled the trembling boy into his arms.

Dean felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He hadn't seen his own father do that for Sam in a long time, and only now did he realize how much Sam had needed it. He looked down at his hands while Mr. Kent sent Sam into the kitchen to help set the table for breakfast, then Mr. Kent knelt down to the coffee table to take out a first aid kit out of a drawer.

"Nice to see you two getting along, by the way," Mr. Kent said as he sat down beside Lex.

Dean breathed in to deny it, but his voice caught. He couldn't. He didn't even really want to.

Mr. Kent began working on disinfecting and bandaging the cut on Lex's arm. It was quiet other than a couple of soft hisses from Lex, then Mr. Kent moved to the other side of the couch and set to work on Dean's leg. Dean clenched his teeth, determined to be even more silent than Lex had been.

"I know what you boys were trying to do last night," Mr. Kent said. "It was very brave. It also wasn't your job."

Neither of them said anything.

"You're not used to being able to ask a parent for help, are you?"

"No, sir," they said in unison.

"New house rule. If you find yourself in real trouble—someone gets lost or hurt—you _tell_ us."

"You'll give us immunity?" Lex asked.

"You won't be in trouble if you're honest," Mr. Kent confirmed, then he stood. "Okay. Let's go eat."

"Um, about our . . . punishment . . ." Dean's voice trailed off.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't tell us what it was."

"You don't think you've been through enough?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "What, you'd yell at us for fighting, and ground us the next day, but if we run off late at night, and tell Sam to lie to you, and _lose your son_ , you let us off with a tap on the back of the head?"

"You also _found_ our son. Don't get me wrong, boys, I'm not letting you out of my sight for a little while, but I don't need to yell at you. I suspect your conscience is doing that for me."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"You were trying to do the right thing. It was wrong, but I think you learned your lesson when you got hurt. Martha and I don't feel the need to add to the natural consequences. We know how sorry you are."

Dean felt awful, but he didn't want to say that in front of Lex, even though he was sure Lex felt the same way.

"You're forgiven. Both of you." Mr. Kent placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. "If you want to talk more after breakfast, we can, but I'm not going to _scold_ you. Not this time. Of course, if it ever happens again—"

"It won't!" Dean blurted out, while Lex said, "Never!"

Mr. Kent nodded. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh, yeah. Starved," Dean said.

"Let's go eat."

That kind of mercy was foreign to Dean, and it was uncomfortable, but he kept his mouth shut and took it. All three of them went to the breakfast table to meet the others, who were already dishing up, and Dean had to swallow against the tightness in his throat.

They spent the late morning resting in their rooms and the afternoon doing a few easy chores and playing games. Dean had been planning on picking up where he left off the day before, yelling at Sam for taking Clark on a recon mission, but after what Mr. Kent had said, he didn't have the heart. More than that, he didn't feel like he had the _right_.

Mrs. Kent outdid herself at dinnertime, frying up two chickens and making two whole pies. To Dean's astonishment, Clark was the one who ate the most. They all settled down for a movie after dinner. Clark fell asleep with his head on Lex's shoulder, and Sam fell asleep curled up against Dean on the couch, and Dean and Lex exchanged a look that might have been seen as a smile.

That night, Dean slept better on the floor of the Kents' guest room than he had ever slept in a bed in a motel or cabin. He found himself wishing he could stay here for the whole summer, or even longer.

* * *

The Djinn had been dead for less than twenty-four hours when Dean's dad showed up at the Kent house.

They'd all been sitting down to breakfast when the knock came on the door. Mr. Kent stood first, but Mrs. Kent shook her head and went to answer it herself. Dean exchanged a glance with Sam as they listened to their dad exchange words with Mrs. Kent—nothing they could hear—then Mrs. Kent and their dad came into the kitchen.

"Dean. Report."

Dean dropped his fork and stood at attention, looking straight ahead. "We ran out of rations, sir. We went looking for food, and the Kents caught us trying to sneak into their house."

"The provisions in the cabin should have been enough for two weeks, Dean."

Dean clenched his teeth. It might have been enough if they had intended to ration for two weeks, but Dad had promised he'd come back in a week. Dean kept his mouth shut, though. Arguing would just get him into more trouble.

"We'll talk about it later. Let's go."

Mr. Kent was up and out of his seat before Dean could process what was happening. He got up right in Dean's father's face. "I don't think so. Not before me and you have a talk."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Jonathan Kent. We're the ones who housed and fed your kids after you abandoned them to _die_ in the woods."

Dean stood and muscled his way between the two men. "Mr. Kent," he said, "it's okay."

"It's _not_ okay," Mr. Kent said.

"We're fine," Dean said.

"It's not your concern," his dad said.

" _Not my concern?_ "

Mr. Kent pushed Dean aside, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He should have seen this coming.

"You take off on some _work trip_ , if that's even what it was, and you leave two _minors_ in a cabin without enough food, so they were forced to wander around in the woods alone—"

"I know my boys. And I know what they can handle."

"You _neglected_ them!"

"Not according to the law, and I can prove that. But according to the law, what you did is considered kidnapping."

" _What?_ " Mr. Kent's face turned beet red.

"Like I said, my family is not your concern. For what it's worth, I do appreciate what you were trying to do, but make no mistake, Mr. Kent. If you come after my boys, I'll come after yours."

Mr. Kent still looked ready to kill, but he took a half step back.

"Dean," his dad said, "let's go."

Dean's eyes fell on Sam—Sam was staring down at his breakfast, looking miserable. "Sir," Dean said, turning back to his father, "can we say good bye?"

His dad's eyes narrowed, just for a split second, but then he nodded. "Five minutes. Meet me in the car." And with that, he turned and left the room.

Dean turned around to face Sam. Clark had already launched himself into Sam's arms, and Sam was gripping him back. When they let go, Clark's eyes were wide and teary.

"You think your dad will let you come visit?" Clark asked.

Sam winced. "I—I don't—"

"Hey," Dean said, and he waited for Clark to look up at him. "I'm turning eighteen next year. We'll come see you on our own, whether our dad likes it or not." He had no idea how soon he could uphold that promise, but hunting took them all over the country. Chances were, there'd be a case in Kansas sooner or later.

Clark wiped at his eyes and ran over to hug Dean as well. Dean wasn't exactly sure what to do with that, so he just patted Clark's back awkwardly a couple of times.

Lex gave Sam a small smile and a handshake, then he turned to Dean and gave a slight nod. Now that Dean knew about the Luthor family, he could keep an eye on Lex in the news and make sure things weren't taking a turn for the worse in his household. Lex's father might have never given him the opportunity to be a good son, but Lex was still a good brother.

Mr. Kent came over to give them each a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. He leaned in closer to Dean and asked, "You're sure you're going to be okay?"

"We'll be fine, Mr. Kent."

"You have my phone number. If he abandons you again—"

"I'll call you," Dean lied easily.

Mr. Kent nodded, and Mrs. Kent took his place, pulling Dean into a soft hug that reminded him so much of his vague memories of his mother, he had to blink back tears.

"Take care of yourselves, boys," she said.

"Thank you for everything, Mrs. Kent," Sam said, and they both headed toward the door.

Dean gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze as they left the house. "We'll see them again, Sammy, I can promise you that" he said.

"You sure?" Sam asked in a small voice.

Dean smiled. "Positive."

* * *

Despite the absence of the Winchesters, the rest of the summer may as well have been heaven.

Lex knew Clark was missing Sam and Dean as soon as they left, so he made up his mind to be as good an older brother to Clark as he possibly could in the time he had left. He asked Mr. Kent if he and Clark could work on chores together as much as possible rather than splitting up. He didn't try to sneak away to his room in the afternoons—he played basketball and checkers, he rode horses, he helped Mrs. Kent with the baking, and he did whatever else Clark could think of for them to do.

Clark was worth that. Lex had determined Clark was worth his own life; he had very nearly paid that price. And now Lex was getting what he'd paid for. He was getting a second chance to be a big brother.

Lex even did his best to cooperate with the Kents, and managed to avoid being grounded again, though he suspected that was because they realized that grounding Lex would make Clark absolutely miserable. Lex's mouth sometimes got the better of him, but the worst the Kents ever did was lecture him.

The farm felt safe, and that was something Lex had never experienced before. Mrs. Kent bought him a new cap to replace the one he'd lost at the warehouse, but most days, he found himself completely forgetting to put it on.

A week before school started back up, a limousine pulled up out in front of the farm. Lex was already packed. His father didn't even come into the house to get him, but Lex appreciated that. As long as he didn't keep the driver waiting too long, he could have a little time to say good bye.

Mr. Kent gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder that almost could have been considered a side hug, and Mrs. Kent pulled him into an embrace so warm and loving that he had to consciously tell himself to let go of her after he'd held on for a few seconds too many. Less than a second after he let go of Mrs. Kent, Clark jumped into his arms, and he actually did refuse to let go.

Lex grimaced. "Clark, my dad's waiting for me."

"Don't go," Clark whispered.

"I have to," Lex said, blinking rapidly.

"But you're the best friend I've ever had."

"Alright." Lex pried Clark's arms away and knelt down in front of him. "Alright, let's make a promise."

"Promise me we'll see each other again?"

Lex nodded. "I promise."

Clark gave him one last hug, then he sniffled and let him go.

Lex almost forgot to put on his new cap before he left the house.

His father was waiting for him in the car, a slight smirk on his face, though he kept his eyes on the newspaper in his lap. Lex kept his eyes on his hands. The longer he could go without having to make conversation, the better.

A few minutes into the drive, Lex's father finally looked up at him. "Well?"

Lex put on his best sullen face, staring out of the window. "It was hell. I hate you."

"I trust you'll behave yourself this year. Otherwise, I'll be sending you back next summer."

Lex nodded and fought back a smile. "Yes, Father."

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for episode 1 of "Monsters and Meteors"! I'll post an announcement here when episode 2 begins.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. I always love hearing your thoughts!


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